


Midgar's Shadows

by ArcaneWeapon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination, Ballroom Dancing, Clerith is the only ship in this harbor, Dark, Explicit Language, F/M, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Rivals to Lovers, Secret Identity, Sexual Tension, Temporary Character Death, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcaneWeapon/pseuds/ArcaneWeapon
Summary: Everyone living in Midgar knows Rufus Shinra rules the city. As the president of Shinra Electric Power Company, he controls the populace with a fair, but strict fist.What most people don’t know, however, is that another presence lurks in Midgar. Hiding in plain sight, concealed by shadows. Only a handful are even aware of its existence, but those that do, know to fear it. Above all else.Receiving a desperate call for help, Aerith sets out—unaware she is beginning a journey that will cause her to question everything she knows.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough & Tifa Lockhart, Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 28
Kudos: 34





	1. Materia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot bunny for this story snuck up on me out of nowhere while I was wrapping up Healing. Its core theme is certainly one of my favorites in published literature. At one point—many, many years ago—I even tried writing an original story along these lines, although it fell apart pretty quickly. This is my new take on the concept, and I'm _so_ much happier with it. Once the thought of placing the theme into my primary fandom hit me, tons of ideas started flowing, especially around getting to see radically different sides of both Cloud and Aerith. I hope you enjoy it.

Aerith was bored. She idly ran the palm of her hand over the table she was sitting at, careful to keep her bracelet from scratching the surface. The feeling of the smooth, polished wood against her skin was strangely soothing. She wondered how much a table like this cost. Probably more than she could afford. Of course, money wasn't generally a very large obstacle in the first place. Not for someone in her profession.

Rufus loudly cleared his throat, and she realized he was expecting an answer. Well, he could wait a while longer. She was never one to bend easily to the wishes of others. Her master had always cautioned her about these games she liked to play, warning her she might one day offend a client she shouldn't. Aerith didn't particularly care—she accepted orders from one person, and one person alone. She smiled softly to herself as she remembered the last one who had tried. They'd quickly realized their mistake.

Aerith knew that wouldn't be the case tonight, not with Rufus. This was the fourth time now he'd sought out her unique talents, and they both knew how this little song and dance went at this point. She raised her hand to her face, pretending to inspect her nails, while in reality examining the man seated across from her.

He was ruggedly handsome, she had to admit—in a way she knew caused most women to stop and stare. Not so much Aerith. Blond hair and blue eyes had never really managed to capture her attention. If anything, she found herself far more interested in the white, leather jacket he always seemed to wear. She wondered how it would look on her . . .

"Look, I'm glad you're amused, but I need an answer. Tonight," Rufus said firmly.

Her smile widened as she saw his throat bob and his eyes dart away from hers once he finished talking. This was exactly what she enjoyed about their interactions. Why he was one of the few clients she accepted multiple requests from. Rufus might have been the president of Shinra Electric, with hundreds of employees at his beck and call, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of her.

Aerith thrived on that terror—drinking it like a fine wine.

"My, my, so insistent tonight," she purred, directing her entire attention at him. She struggled not to laugh as she saw him shift uncomfortably in his chair. This was too much fun. "Who's the target?"

"Can I take that as your agreement to the assignment, then?"

"Who's. The. Target?" she hissed, not pleased to have to repeat herself.

There was a long pause as Rufus reached up and loosened his tie, a bead of sweat tracing down his brow. "A researcher. From Junon. He's been in town for a week."

He was obviously leaving things out. Aerith didn't particularly mind, but it was still mildly annoying. For a moment, she even considered leaving—if this were anyone else, she already would have. She'd had enough fun with Rufus tonight, though, so she was willing to humor him.

"Doesn't sound like anything you'd need me for," she remarked, dismissively, her body turning in the chair as if she were getting ready to leave.

"No, wait!" he yelled, his hand reaching out in her direction. "Please, you're the only one I can ask. This man has . . . certain tastes."

Aerith raised a single brow, intrigued now. She settled back into her seat. "Go on. But quit trying to hide the details. I don't care how it relates to you, but I need to know everything about him."

The tension visibly drained from his body, his arm falling to rest on the arm of his chair once more. He picked up a glass with his other hand, taking a quick sip of whatever was inside.

"He's the head of a research group from Junon," Rufus explained, setting the glass back down with a clink. "They've been developing a new Materia. It's supposedly going to be capable of powering an entire four-bedroom house by itself."

Aerith smirked, instantly understanding why this was such a big deal to Rufus. The reactors powering Midgar were powerful, but not perfect. As the city grew ever larger, blackouts were becoming more and more common, the demand for power only ever increasing. A Materia capable of doing what he'd described would bring Shinra to its knees, not to mention fetch a gleaming gil for its creators.

His reasons were irrelevant to her. Anyone who hired her was acting in their self-interest, there was nothing new with that. She also never expected it to change—that was simply how her life went.

"None of that explains why you need me."

Rufus nodded, his palms nervously rubbing together. "We've learned he's brought a prototype version of this new Materia with him. In addition to your normal services, I hoped you'd also be willing to retrieve it."

Aerith cocked her head, thinking. It certainly wasn't an unusual request, she'd played delivery girl before. "And the tastes you mentioned?"

She smiled in amusement as Rufus's cheeks turned a shade redder. "He's . . . already made quite a name for himself. Every night he lines up willing women outside his hotel—whores, really—and selects one to spend the night with."

Aerith's smile grew into a full grin, revealing her pristine teeth. "Is that how you see me?" she whispered, forcing him to lean in closer. " _A whore_?" She didn't like using the word but knew it would make him even more uncomfortable to hear it from her lips.

Rufus's face paled so drastically it was almost as if someone had instantly sucked all the blood from his body. He nearly blended in with his jacket. "No. _No_! That's not what I was implying!" he stammered, frantically shaking his head.

Aerith laughed warmly, letting him know she'd only been playing with him. Once it died off, however, she didn't speak—a raised eye indicating she expected clarification.

"I . . . I just meant it seemed like an easy way in," he explained, his lips forming into a weak smile.

"Don't presume to tell me how to do _my_ job," she snapped, actually angry now. She shoved her chair away from the table—a loud screeching noise filling the air—and stood up, ignoring Rufus's wide eyes as she moved to leave. "I'll have your Materia for you by the end of the week."

"That . . . means you accept?" Rufus asked, hesitantly from behind her.

Aerith stopped in her tracks, slowly looking over her shoulder to glare at him. "Was I not clear?" she demanded. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"No, I . . . Thank you."

She ignored him as she pushed open the large wooden doors leading out of his office. They were nice doors. Aerith was beginning to realize she had a weakness for quality wood. It had something to do with the aromatic scent, along with the feel, she thought. She shook her head to clear it, now wasn't the right time.

Aerith noted the two bodyguards waiting outside as they came into view. The one with spiky red hair looked at her as if she were a venomous serpent, while the bald one wearing shades was more circumspect. Aerith winked at the bald one—barely containing her laughter as he jumped in surprise—before flipping the red-haired man off as she waltzed out.

* * *

Rufus hadn't been wrong, the researcher clearly had no understanding of what it meant to be discreet. Aerith had his name within hours of leaving Shinra headquarters—Hojo. As for how she planned to get in contact with him . . . well, Rufus hadn't been wrong about that either—the prostitute route was certainly the easiest.

Of course, she hadn't just taken his word on everything. Aerith was too much of a professional to not do her own research before diving headfirst into a mission. The last three days had been spent tracking Hojo's movements. Where he went, who he talked to, and most importantly, where he was staying. Something Rufus had conveniently left out, was the unusual amount of security Hojo always had with him. He never went anywhere without at least three, heavily armed bodyguards.

It was now the evening of the fourth day since Rufus had hired her. She still had a bit of time before her self-imposed deadline arrived, but her plan did have a bit of luck involved in the first place. After all, Hojo had to pick her. She didn't think that was going to prove to be much of a challenge, however.

Mostly finished with her preparations, she took a look at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall in her bathroom. Her long, brown hair was up in a ponytail. It was the one luxury she allowed herself. Her master had been adamant hair as long as hers was nothing but a weakness. Aerith refused to concede the point. She knew he was right, but that's exactly why she was as good as she was. To compensate for the self-imposed vulnerability.

One of the most revealing outfits in her collection was her selection for the night. It was a pink, strapless dress that left her shoulders and back completely bare, with a plunging v-cut down the front that drew eyes to her generous cleavage. It dropped to her feet, but the right side had a slit that began directly at her waist, essentially revealing her entire leg. Peeking out from the slit, the inside of the dress was revealed to be black, in contrast to the pink fabric on the outside.

A gentle smile snuck onto her light pink lips. If Hojo didn't pick her in this, she'd be shocked. It helped she knew the women from the three previous nights had been wearing similar dresses. Admittedly, hers might have been a tad more extreme, but she didn't often get the chance to dress up, and she was enjoying it. All that was left was the finishing touch, arguably the most important part of the whole thing. She snapped the simple, silver bracelet in question around her wrist, feeling a faint electric tingle run throughout her body as the Materia hidden inside came to life.

Concentrating for a moment, her hair shifted from its natural brown into a dark black. A heartbeat later, her green eyes turned a purplish-blue. The black and purple eyeliner she'd applied earlier now fit much better, and she nodded to herself in satisfaction. Her outfit complete, Aerith slipped on a cheap pair of black slippers, grabbing her heels. Once she reached her destination she'd change into them.

* * *

As the sun slipped beneath the walls of the city—coloring the sky in a stunning array of reds and oranges—Aerith stepped into line with the other women. She was wearing her red heels now, her slippers discarded in an alleyway for later retrieval. Hopefully. If some street rat stole them and she had to walk home barefoot again, she was going to be angry.

Reminding herself to focus, she pushed aside plans on how to better manage her footwear and glanced around. They were lined up outside the hotel Hojo was staying at, other guests averting their eyes as they passed. The women at her sides were mostly quiet, although a few she recognized from her earlier investigations were talking quietly together. They'd all failed to catch Hojo's attention so far. Hopefully, that stayed true tonight as well.

The chatter died down as a group of men approached. In the middle of them was Hojo, dressed in his typical white lab coat. His attention was already glued to the women, his hands rubbing together in what could only have been anticipation. Aerith made sure her disgust didn't show on her face, the other women not seeming to have any problem in that regard.

"Well, well, quite the lovely selection tonight as well," Hojo said, moving away from his guards to pace up and down the line. His eyes were everywhere except their faces, leaving no doubt as to what the plan for later that evening was. "So many beautiful flowers to pick from, sometimes I want them all."

Aerith felt a snake of worry twist in her gut. He'd never done that before. She relaxed slightly as his attention focused on her, his feet coming to a stop.

"But then there's you," he said softly. His eyes traced up and down her body. The feeling of being undressed by them nearly caused her to shiver in revulsion. His focus was clearly on the slit revealing her leg—the top in particular—and how little it left to the imagination.

Aerith forced her cheeks to redden and demurely averted her eyes, not saying anything in response. She wasn't afraid or embarrassed to use her body like this—it had been part of her training after all—but she certainly didn't enjoy it. Especially with a man like Hojo, who didn't deserve to look at her, much less touch her.

"How about you, my little lily? Would you like to be the lucky one tonight?"

She wasn't sure if the scent of her perfume had given him the type of flower to compare her to, or if it was a coincidence. Ultimately it didn't matter, she'd caught his attention. Now all she had to do was reel him in.

Aerith looked up at him through her lashes and shyly nodded her head in response. The impression she'd gotten from her observations was Hojo preferred his women meek and quiet. That was honestly the hardest part of this charade—the part she actually had to put some effort into.

Hojo clapped his hands together, his mouth spreading in a wide grin, his eyes hungry as he made a shooing gesture towards the other women. "Off with the rest of you, then. I'll see you again tomorrow, same place, same time!"

She watched in silence as several of the women shot her nasty looks, but she ignored them. As far as she was concerned, she'd done them all a massive favor. If they weren't capable of realizing that . . . Well, that wasn't on her. To be fair, none of them had seen the women from the earlier nights after their time with Hojo. There was a reason no one ever came back for a second visit.

Most of his guards broke away from the larger group, several moving to proposition the dismissed women. It looked like a few of them were even making progress on that front. Hojo drew closer to Aerith, two guards at his back. They were mostly monitoring the surroundings, but she smirked internally as she noticed their eyes repeatedly lingering on her.

"Come now, my dear, let's go get more comfortable," Hojo said, offering his arm as if he were a gentleman.

Aerith knew that was as far from the truth as possible, but she smiled softly and stepped next to him, wrapping her arm around his—pressing her body against him. She struggled not to react as his cologne assaulted her nose. He was wearing so much she wondered if he hadn't used the entire bottle.

"By the Ancients she's perfect," he whispered to himself under his breath. She knew he hadn't intended her to hear, but he also had no idea how keen her ears were.

"I'm so happy you picked me," Aerith said breathily. It wasn't even a lie, they just each had very different expectations of how this night would play out.

As they stepped through the front doors of the hotel, a man with short, spiky, black hair jostled Hojo on his way out. The impact was surprisingly hard—the man seemed to be in quite a hurry—and as Hojo yelled in surprise, Aerith realized she had to react as well. Despite her heels, her training would have allowed her to absorb the impact transferred from Hojo without issue. Unfortunately, an average woman wouldn't be able to. She silently cursed this random stranger, frustrated at having to deal with this.

Aerith cried out, loosening her grip on Hojo's arm and allowing her body to fall to the ground. She fell carefully, with extreme precision, although to the casual observer it would look completely natural. Landing on her right side with the slit of her dress facing downward, her legs remained completely covered.

"Asshole!" Hojo screamed after the man, but he was already gone.

"Should we send someone after him, Boss?" one of the guards asked.

Hojo shook his head, whirling on the guard in a fury. "What good would that do? You've already shown you're incompetent! Just look at what you allowed to happen to my beautiful flower," he snapped, gesturing at Aerith.

He leered at her, clearly enjoying the view down her dress this angle provided before he held his hand out for her to take. Aerith reached up and allowed him to pull her to her feet, using hardly any of her strength to assist him. She was fully aware of his eyes on her breasts the whole way up, and she made a mental note to track down the black-haired man. He was going to pay for this.

"Thank you," she said softly, once back on her feet. She kept her eyes averted, worried he'd be able to see the revulsion lurking under the surface.

Hojo offered his arm once more, and she slid back onto it. "I'm sorry about that," he said, but given where his eyes were still focused, it wasn't remotely sincere. "I promise I'll make it up to you once we get to my room."

He led them to a nearby elevator where the guards stepped inside first to examine it. A moment later they gestured for the two of them to enter. Aerith followed Hojo inside, not pleased as she felt his hand slide down to cup her butt. Giggling fakely in response, she restrained herself from doing what she actually wanted to do. While not unexpected, it was certainly unwelcome.

The two guards filed out of the elevator as they arrived at the top floor. Once again, they signaled the coast was clear, and Aerith was relieved to feel Hojo's hand shift back upward to her waist as they stepped out of the elevator together. The hallway was empty except for the four of them. The floor was covered in thick carpet, her heels sinking into it, and there were only five rooms within sight. A few seconds later they arrived outside the door to his suite.

As Hojo slid his keycard into the slot above the handle, Aerith prepared to make her case why she didn't want the guards in the room with them. She knew this was going to likely be the most challenging part of the entire night. Before she could say anything, however, Hojo turned around as the door clicked open.

"Back to your rooms, " he snapped, glaring at the two guards. "I'm not going to give you the pleasure of watching tonight, not after your failures."

She hadn't expected this, and from the looks on their faces, the guards weren't happy about it. She couldn't tell if that was more because they'd wanted to see what he did to her, or because they were worried about his safety.

"Boss . . . I'm not sure that's the best—" one of them began, cutting off with a grunt as Hojo backhanded him.

"You babbling idiot! Does my lily look like a rose to you?" he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. "Do you think she's going to kiss me to death? That she'd be able to hide anything other than her body under a dress like that?"

Aerith struggled to keep her face neutral. Hojo wasn't wrong, at least not entirely. It wasn't his fault he didn't know about the _lily-of-the-valley_. Most people didn't. Besides, she considered herself more of a belladonna anyway. She gave the guards her best innocent look, her blue eyes full and round.

They grumbled before eventually leaving. It was a pleasant surprise to see them return to the elevator, instead of to any of the neighboring rooms. The fact they were staying on a separate floor would only make her job easier.

"Come along now," Hojo said briskly, pulling her into the suite behind him.

As she entered the room, her eyes quickly scanned it with trained practice. A large bed, flanked at the head by nightstands with a lamp on each one, dominated it. There was a closed door—presumably leading to a bathroom—next to a large closet built into the interior wall. Opposite it was a massive curtain, covering the large glass window she'd seen from the outside during her observations. Along the wall, across from the bed, was a mounted television, resting above a large desk and a series of cabinets.

Hojo walked over to the television and placed his hand on a Materia embedded in the wall below it, the soft sounds of piano music filling the air as he activated it. He sank into the lone chair near the window, looking up at her as she stopped near the foot of the bed.

"So, why are you here?" he demanded, his voice missing its earlier, playful tone.

Her heart rate spiked before she realized she'd misunderstood his question. He didn't know who she was. He was curious why she'd volunteered. She sat down on the edge of the bed, letting her dress shift so almost her entire right leg was exposed.

"I . . . heard rumors," she explained, "that a brilliant scientist was paying good money for a little . . . fun." His eyes lit up at her use of the word 'brilliant.' "They also said you'd made something. Something to save us from Shinra."

If she'd thought he looked happy moments before, it was nothing compared to now. He was positively glowing from her praise.

"Yes, yes! My Materia will single-handedly destroy Shinra's control over this city!" He was almost bouncing in his chair at this point. "I've almost completed my negotiations for mass production of the prototype I brought with me. Soon you'll be able to buy one of your very own."

She looked at him in mock surprise. "You have it here, with you? Oh, could you please let me see it?" she begged.

His face lost some of his humor as he considered this, and Aerith realized she was losing him. She batted her eyes at him and walked over to sit directly in his lap, intentionally positioning herself so he'd easily be able to look down at her cleavage.

Her lips brushed against his ear. "I'd be so grateful if you'd let me see this Materia that's going to change the world," she whispered seductively. "Someone so important, why . . . I'd let them do anything they wanted to me."

A wide grin spread across his face as she pulled her head back to look into his eyes, and he slowly nodded in agreement. "Hmm, yes . . . Why not? Just a quick peek, though!"

"You can't show it in action?" she asked, pretending to pout.

"Unfortunately, I don't have anything on hand to socket it into. Although . . . we could always try socketing it in you," he said, a lecherous smile on his face as his hand brushed against her thigh, clearly indicating exactly where he was talking about.

Rufus had been right once again; this man certainly had unique tastes. She would play along, however, at least to an extent. "Oh my!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes going as round as saucers. Her cheeks flushed in mock embarrassment, averting her eyes from his.

"I . . . I can't say I've ever tried _that_ before. With a Materia like you've described, though, why . . . it sounds positively electrifying!"

His face lit up at her response. Aerith restrained her groan of frustration. This was too easy. Her hand caught his as it began to wander upwards, and she pulled herself out of his lap. "I want to see it first. Then we can have all the fun you want after."

Hojo eagerly got to his feet and walked over to the desk, opening one of the cabinets next to it, and revealing a small security safe hidden inside. His body blocked her vision of the keypad as he punched in the six-digit code. This didn't concern her, however. She didn't plan on allowing the Materia an opportunity to be placed back inside.

"Here it is," he said, turning around and showing her a yellow Materia. He was cradling it in his hand, clearly afraid of it getting damaged.

"Can I touch it? she asked, but Hojo shook his head.

"Oh, I'll let you feel it later," he said, an ugly smile on his lips as he walked past her to one side of the bed. "I'm afraid I can't risk any harm coming to it, though." He gently placed it on a stand sitting next to the lamp on the bedside table. Once he was content it was secure, he dropped onto the bed, patting the sheets next to him. "So, ready to get to the fun part?"

Aerith didn't even have to feign excitement as she moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, removing her heels. "Yeah, I'm good to go." She was glad this night was coming to a quick, easy conclusion. With one part of Rufus's request complete, it was now time for the second.

As she swung her legs up onto the bed, Hojo moved down to the end so he was sitting at her feet. He grabbed the bottom of her dress and began to creep upwards before she caught his hand with her own, stopping it at her shin.

"No need to be so hasty," Aerith breathed lightly. "We've got all night . . ."

Hojo ignored her and tried to continue lifting her dress. Huffing in annoyance—but attempting to disguise it as a breathy moan—Aerith twisted her body and skillfully flipped them over onto the side of the bed he'd started on. Now she was the one in control. Hojo looked like he was about to protest, but she spoke first.

"You've been a naughty boy," she whispered, reaching back with one hand to pull her hem back down into place. "And naughty boys deserve punishment, don't you agree?" Her other hand reached up and slipped her breasts free from the dress.

Hojo's eyes greedily locked on to her exposed nipples, licking his lips disgustingly. He nodded vigorously under her, seeming content to allow her to continue to control the situation for now. She slipped the hand she'd used to adjust her hem up his leg, pausing briefly at the bulge between his legs. Hojo whimpered softly and she smirked at him.

"You like that, hmm?" she teased, her hand moving away to continue up his body as she leaned down closer to him.

"As if I'd ever let a sick fuck like you stick a Materia inside me," Aerith hissed into his ear.

Before Hojo could react, she flipped the punch dagger she'd concealed with her hand into position. With a smooth thrust, she cleanly stabbed it through his ribs—directly into his heart.

Hojo's eyes widened in shock, his body convulsing as he made a wet, gurgling noise. Aerith sat back, one hand still firmly holding down his already weakening struggles, but thankfully only a small trail of blood leaked out the corner of his mouth. The last time she'd done this had been quite a bit messier. As the light in his eyes winked out, she sighed softly in contentment at a job well done.

 _Another flawless mission_ , she thought, tucking herself back into her dress.

The bathroom door opened, and her head snapped over in alarm. A man was standing there.

"Boss, I—" he began, freezing as he saw Aerith on top of Hojo's extremely dead body.

She immediately threw herself off the opposite side of the bed. Half a second later, the bedside lamp above her exploded, fragments of the ceramic base flying everywhere. Since she hadn't heard the accompanying gunshot, she assumed the gun had a silencer.

Aerith cursed softly as she considered her options. Of _course_ there had been a bodyguard taking a shit in the bathroom. Things had been going far too smoothly to be surprised by a last-minute wrinkle like this. If anything, she was upset at herself for not noticing in the first place. She'd been having too much fun.

"You fucking bitch!" the man screamed, the source of his voice indicating he was hiding in the bathroom. "You killed the Boss!"

Aerith rolled her eyes— _so_ emotional. This presented a small problem, though. Presumably, he had some way of getting in contact with his friends. Even if he was still in shock and not thinking about that yet, he would eventually. The last thing she wanted was an entire army of bodyguards swarming the room. Not that she wouldn't be able to deal with them, it just wasn't what she'd signed up for.

Reaching down, she lifted the left hem of her dress to her knee, revealing what she'd carefully kept hidden all night—a hidden leather harness wrapped around her lower leg. Strapped to it were four, small throwing knives. Aerith grabbed one with each hand, silently pulling them out. She had nothing against the guard, but he wasn't going to let her take the Materia and leave. Unfortunately for him, that meant death.

She dropped one of the knives onto the ground so she could pick up her discarded heels, before tossing them towards the door leading out to the hallway. As she heard the man open fire at her distraction, Aerith smoothly picked up the knife she'd dropped as she leaped to her feet. Both knives were already flying through the air before he even noticed her. One slammed directly into his throat, silencing him, the other embedding itself through his eye a split second later. He dropped like a rock in the bathroom doorway.

Not lowering her guard, Aerith pulled the last two daggers from their sheaths. She slowly moved around the bed, her entire attention focused on the bathroom. As she neared the door, she used the mirror inside to scan the room. The only blind spot was the shower. She took a deep breath and threw herself through the doorway, the daggers flashing out, one high, the other low. They clanged against the tiles and fell into the tub. The room was empty.

It wasn't much of a surprise—the man hadn't given any indication of having an ally. Still, she'd already made one mistake today, which was more than enough. Collecting her daggers from the tub, she returned them to their sheaths before leaving the bathroom.

Walking over to the main door, she made sure it was locked, just in case. She gathered her shoes and placed them to the side for later, frowning as she saw one of the heels had snapped from the impact of the throw. That was annoying. Finally, Aerith pulled the three blades she'd used out of the bodies—making sure not to get any blood on herself—and tossed them into the bathroom sink.

She paused to look in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was cold, and hard, and showed no sign anything unusual had happened. She smiled at herself, before eyeing the state of her makeup, pleased to note despite all the recent activity it was still mostly intact. This new product was much better than the last.

Aerith turned the sink on, setting the tap for hot water and placing her hand under the faucet to measure the temperature. She wasn't in a rush. Things certainly weren't going to plan anymore, but the presence of the bodyguard inside the room explained why the others had been so willing to leave them alone. By the time they returned, she'd be long gone. It didn't matter if the other two guards would be able to identify her as the culprit. That was the entire point of her altered hair and eye color, after all. She knew it would be more mysterious if she left only a trail of bodies and no witnesses, but she'd never been one for killing unless it was absolutely required.

As the water finally reached the temperature she was looking for, Aerith pulled out a small cloth tucked away inside the bust of her dress and quickly cleaned off her makeup. Next, she focused on the Materia hidden in her bracelet once more, her hair now changing to a deep red and her eyes to an earthen brown. With quick, practiced hands, she undid her ponytail and left her hair hanging loose.

Carefully unzipping the side of her dress, she pulled it off and flipped it inside out—transforming it into a night-black version of the same dress. With easy access to the various sheaths strapped to her body now that the dress was removed, she quickly cleaned the blades in the sink before returning them to their homes. Her transformation was nearly complete. She slipped the dress back over her head, and readjusted it, smoothing everything out so it didn't look like she'd just tossed it on. Deftly grabbing the zipper hidden at the top of the slit along her leg, she carefully sealed it.

The dress was much tighter around her legs now, but still allowed a decent range of motion. She wouldn't be running around, certainly, at least not without ripping it. For the finishing touch, she also zipped up the front, concealing her cleavage, as the dress was now a solid line instead of a v. There was a good reason this was one of her favorite outfits.

Content no one should be able to recognize her, Aerith left the bathroom—stepping around the dead bodyguard once again—and returned to the bedroom. She snatched the Materia from the bedside table Hojo had left it on, and wrapped it with the cloth she'd used to clean her face. It didn't quite cover it completely, but her hand would be able to conceal the gap.

Glancing around the room one last time, Aerith made sure she'd hadn't left anything of hers behind. The shattered lamp was unfortunate, but not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Her eyes came to rest on Hojo's body. A normal human might have felt sorrow looking at a corpse, but she didn't. She didn't feel anything at all. Turning, she went to the door and quietly opened it, poking her head out into the hall. No one was there.

She gathered her heels from where she'd placed them earlier and left the room, quietly padding down the carpeted hallway, her bare feet completely silent. Thankfully, her journey to the elevator was uninterrupted, and no one was inside waiting to come out. Aerith hit the button for the ground floor, anxiously tapping her foot as the elevator slowly descended. Likely due to the time of night, no one else was heading down, and she arrived without issue. She quickly strode through the lobby, ignoring the few people still working this late.

Aerith came to an abrupt halt as she stepped outside the hotel, a tingle running across her entire body. Someone was watching her. Not just an idle passerby, someone with hostile intent. She quickly scanned the rooftops, her eyes locking on a figure in all black, leaning against a chimney—not even trying to hide.

They stared at each other for a moment, before the figure stepped back and seemed to meld into the very darkness of the night. Aerith snarled at the sky where the person had been. She knew _exactly_ what this meant.

Another Shadow had arrived in Midgar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be posting the first chapter of this story! This is my take on a universe where our favorite flower girl has gone down a darker path. Don't worry though, she's still in there! Hopefully, you're looking forward to learning more about what's led up to this point and what's down the road! I'm currently planning for around twenty–five chapters, all roughly around the same length as this one, so fingers crossed this will be my first story to break the 100k mark. We'll see. In terms of posting, given how much work each chapter is going to be, I'm currently planning on updating every other week. I've also gone ahead and set up both the characters, and the tags to cover what I think should be the whole story—I'm going to try my best to not need to add more.
> 
> I also have to give many thanks once again to the fabulous Lichtschwert. Your continued assistance with beta reading my stories means so much to me and I can never thank you enough.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Next Chapter: Shadow**


	2. Shadow

Aerith blew past Rufus's bodyguards, ignoring their angry shouts as her hands slammed into the wooden doors of his office. They were no match for her full strength. It wasn't that they'd been built to keep people out—that was the bodyguards' job—but they also weren't flimsy by any means. It didn't matter. The doors crashed inward, unable to open since their hinges went the other direction. There was a resounding crash as they landed on the ground with a booming impact.

The two bodyguards froze, the words on their lips instantly dying as they each took a step backward. A brief spike of pleasure shot through Aerith at their reactions, but it was quickly drowned out by her rage. She passed over the doors and into the office, ignoring the strain in her arms and shoulders—she'd overdone it. Rufus was seated at his desk, staring at her with wide eyes, one hand under the table.

"I dare you to pull that gun on me," she hissed, her eyes flashing as she stalked towards him.

He flinched and slowly pulled his hand out, showing her his empty palms. "What's going on?" he asked cautiously, his eyes darting between her and the destruction left behind by her entrance.

"Did you hire the other fucking Shadow?" she snapped, getting straight to the source of her anger.

Aerith tried to calm herself by taking a deep breath. Losing her composure in front of a valuable client was embarrassing—the swearing beneath her. It was important to never show weakness, of any kind, especially in a situation like this.

"Other Shadow?" Rufus asked, either sincerely surprised or a far better liar than she expected. "I was under the impression you were the only Shadow in Midgar."

Aerith let out her breath. She believed him—for now. Her grip on the hilt at her wrist relaxed, and she twisted her arm so the small blade slid back into its concealed sheath in her sleeve. She saw Rufus note the motion in confusion, unaware of just how close he'd come to death.

"I was, as far as I was aware. Until last night."

She was still shaken, and that weakness was what drove her anger. She didn't give a damn who that other Shadow was. Midgar was hers. And she was going to make sure they knew it.

"Should I be concerned?" Rufus asked, hesitantly. "It seems like you're not terribly pleased about the situation . . ."

Aerith clenched her jaw. She was _not_ going to get into internal politics with a client. "Nothing you need concern yourself over," she muttered, fishing out the Materia she'd taken from Hojo.

She was thankful to see Rufus's attention immediately shift to it, the previous topic forgotten. Aerith tossed the orb back and forth between her hands, smirking in amusement at the growing alarm in his eyes as he watched. As if she'd _actually_ drop it. Just for fun, she pretended to—laughing as Rufus jumped to his feet. She caught the orb right before it smashed into the floor, tossing it to him.

He cleanly snatched it out of the air, glaring at her for a moment before seeming to remember who she was. His eyes flicked down to the Materia in his hands as he sat back down.

"Incredible…" he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the polished surface and marveling at it as if it were the most valuable thing in the world. Which, she supposed, to him, it might actually be. "It's truly amazing how far Materia research has come. The things they can do these days felt impossible only a year ago."

Aerith restrained herself from pointing out that Rufus didn't know half of it. Shadows had been using Materia far more advanced than anything available to the public for years—it was a large reason why they were so widely feared. Not that she'd ever share information like that with an outsider.

She wasn't even curious to know what his plans for it were. Presumably, he wasn't going to mass-produce it, given that was the situation he'd wanted to avoid in the first place. Maybe it would end up buried away, the very technology he marveled at as good as useless. That wouldn't surprise her in the least.

Aerith walked over to his desk and firmly placed her hand on it, her eyes drilling into his. "I'll take my payment now."

Rufus snapped out of his daze and gave her a quick nod, opening a drawer and safely storing the Materia away inside. He opened a separate drawer and rifled through it for a moment, before clicking his tongue and pulling out a sealed envelope.

"There, that should be your usual fee, plus a little extra for the delivery. I just wanted to say . . ."

Aerith stopped paying attention and let him drone on as she snatched the proffered envelope. She didn't bother to open it. Rufus was smart enough not to try and cheat her. While she'd heard rumors of it happening to others from her master, no one had ever been stupid enough to try it with her.

". . . really just so valuable," Rufus finished, smiling at her nervously.

"Is that all?" she asked dryly.

He nervously blinked several times before nodding his head.

"Then I thank you for your patronage, and wish the shadow's blessing upon you," she said, reciting the formal line signaling the end of a contract.

The usual feeling of loss hit her as she finished speaking. Aerith _hated_ not having a mission. It made her feel useless. She needed that excitement, that drive, that focus. Otherwise, her mind would wander, and then she'd end up thinking about—

She immediately nipped that thought in the bud before it had a chance to grow.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long before the next contract. The gap before this last one had already been too much. "If anything else comes up, you know how to contact me," she told Rufus, turning to leave.

Aerith paused as she stepped onto the fallen wooden doors. A flicker of guilt shot through her for what she'd done to them. Apologizing to Rufus was out of the question, however, and she, unfortunately, couldn't apologize to the remains of the beautiful doors. Instead, she resolved to take it as a lesson in controlling her temper and moved on. This time as she left, the bodyguards completely ignored her.

* * *

The fire raged out of control.

Roaring pillars of flame stretched from floor to ceiling, impossibly high. A dizzying array of every possible shade of orange and red and yellow ran through them, dancing and twining together to the crackling symphony they created. It would have been mesmerizing, except Aerith was trapped in the middle of it all.

Despite this, she wasn't afraid. If anything, she felt a strange sense of detachment, even as a portion of the ceiling to her left collapsed. There was a crashing noise, followed by an explosion of sparks as it impacted the ground next to her. Even as some of those sparks landed on her bare skin, she felt nothing.

The flames directly in front slowly began to darken to black. Not a flame of black, but _something_ inside them. Moving through them. Growing. It was coming towards her.

The form became more and more distinct as it drew ever closer. It was now the shape of a tall man. Aerith tried to move backward—suddenly desperate to get away—but was stopped as her back hit the wall.

 _Now_ she could feel the flames. They were licking against her skin, burning her hair, scorching her back. Still, she didn't cry out. Her mouth was so dry she wasn't even sure she could.

The man stepped out of the flames, his features revealed in shocking clarity. Incredibly long, silver-white hair flowed down his back. His eyes were bright green, mirroring hers, but with a slitted pupil like a cat's. A full-length, black leather coat covered his body, an impossibly long sword hanging loosely in his hand at his side. He smirked down at her, his eyes glowing with a dark evil.

Overwhelming terror slammed into Aerith, shattering her earlier calm.

She screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and—

Aerith clawed herself back to wakefulness—her heart pounding—and threw the sheets off her sweat-slicked body. A sigh of relief escaped her throat as the cool night air caressed her burning skin. It had been over a year since the last time she'd had the nightmare. A part of her had hoped it was gone forever. As if that would ever happen.

Shifting her legs off the bed, she got to her feet, padding over to the window and opening it slightly wider. The fresh night air filled her lungs, wonderfully cool. Thankfully, her room was far enough above the streets that the ever-present stench of the city couldn't reach her nose.

Despite its perpetual reek, Aerith was forced to admit the city was beautiful. Especially the view she was used to—the rooftops and peaks of buildings high above everything else. From up there, she could look down on all of the twinkling lights. Watch the normal people go about their boring, everyday lives.

She couldn't imagine how they could stand it. Day after day, following the exact same routine without change. Sometimes, she'd idly wonder what _she_ might have done if the Master hadn't found her—saved her. A researcher at Shinra? Too stuffy. A teacher? Too much responsibility. A businesswoman, running her own flower delivery service? Too bland.

Turning, Aerith walked past her bed and into the bathroom. She turned the sink on, splashing her face before tilting her head to the side to drink some of the blissfully cold water. The last of the tension from her nightmare faded away as she shut off the tap. She was ready to try and fall asleep again.

Aerith pulled off the long shirt she liked to wear at night as she returned to bed. Hopefully, she'd sleep better in just her underwear. As she settled back onto her bed, pulling the light sheet over her, she desperately hoped for a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Aerith tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. It felt like she'd been trying for hours now. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the black-clad figure standing on the roof, looking down at her. She slammed her fist onto the mattress under her, angry at how unsatisfying it felt. Sitting up, she tossed the sheets aside for the second time that night. This was pointless.

Everything was that Shadow's fault—her anger at Rufus, the return of the dream, and now her inability to sleep. She was sick of it. There was only one thing to do—confront the problem at its source.

With a goal in mind, Aerith marched over to her closet, throwing the door open. The vast array of her wardrobe greeted her—dresses, shirts, pants—all in a wide range of colors. None of them were what she was after at the moment. Separating the dresses down the middle with a flick of her wrists, Aerith revealed the wall behind them. She placed her palm gently against the surface and pushed, twisting her hand slightly at the same time. There was a soft click, and the hidden panel concealed there dropped to the floor. Hanging inside was a midnight-black suit.

Her Shadowsuit.

Aerith reached out and grabbed it by the neck, the cool leather greeting her palm like an old friend. Throwing it onto the bed behind her, she returned the panel to its closed position and rearranged the dresses before closing the closet behind her.

She walked back to her bed, slipping her underwear off as she went, and tossing them into her laundry basket. The cool night air caressed her bare skin, and she shivered slightly. The suit had to be worn in the nude. Any form of clothing whatsoever would interfere with its functionality, not to mention chafe uncomfortably.

Aerith slid her feet into the legs of the suit, pulling it on, up to her waist. Her toes slipped into the boots which were seamlessly attached at the ends. Next, she reached back and slid her arms—both at the same time—into the sleeves, flexing her fingers as they entered the gloves on either end. The suit was mostly on at this point, all of her skin covered except for a long slit running from her waist up to her neck.

Before she could apply the finishing touches, Aerith reached up and quickly freed her hair from the loose braid she kept it in while sleeping. With well-practiced fingers, she gathered it instead into a tight bun—right at the base of her neck—and secured it with a pin. She reached back and grabbed the hood that was attached to the back of the neck of the suit and pulled it over her head. There were only two holes for her eyes in the face mask that was a part of the hood, but as she shifted it into place, she was still able to easily breathe through both her mouth and nose.

Concentrating on one of the many Materia embedded into the suit, a familiar soft hissing noise filled her ears as it sealed itself. All of the air between her skin and the leather was pressed out as it perfectly melded to her body. She was completely enclosed now, the slit down the front merging together and the base of the hood melding into the neck. Aerith could remember feeling trapped the first time she'd worn the Shadowsuit. Instead, it was a loving embrace now. A sensation of being whole.

Anyone inspecting the leather encasing her would find it completely impossible to remove. With the suit activated, it formed a complete seal around her body. Attempting to cut it off would prove futile—thanks to an intricate mesh of pure Adamantite woven directly under the surface. There were only two possible ways for it to be removed: Aerith had to either deactivate the Materia to unseal the mask, or else her heart had to stop. Not even falling unconscious would cause it to stop functioning and release.

Because of this, the Shadowsuits were the ultimate protection. A gift granted from the Master only once the Shadow had proven they had mastered all of his lessons. Aerith could still remember the day she'd been blessed with the suit she wore now. It was the highlight of her life.

She ran a hand down her body, reveling in the feeling of the leather as if it were directly against her palm. That was another advantage, the suit didn't impede any of her senses. If anything, it heightened them—her vision, hearing, and sense of touch all greatly enhanced. At the same time, her body was now the perfect temperature. No longer chilled from the night air, but also not hot from the encasing leather.

She was ready.

Aerith strode to the window and lithely slipped outside. It was time to hunt.

* * *

It hadn't taken long—or even been challenging—to find the other Shadow.

They were on the roof of Shina's headquarters, their legs dangling carefree off the edge of the helicopter pad. It made perfect sense for them to be here—it was one of Aerith's favorite spots in Midgar because of its commanding view of the city. Finding them here only upset her even more. This intruder was violating one of her sacred spaces.

Aerith completed the final jump of her ascent up the outside of the building, landing on the roof on the opposite side from the source of her anger. She wasn't breathing hard from the long climb, thanks in part to the suit, but also because she'd done this many, many times before. The Shadow had to be aware of her presence by now, but as Aerith drew closer, they still gave no sign of acknowledgment.

"I'm impressed you learned I was in the city so quickly," he said as she stopped several feet behind him.

His voice had given his gender away, although she was now close enough to be able to tell from his body structure as well, even with his back turned. Aerith knew it wasn't his real voice, just like how her suit would also serve to conceal her own. It was only capable of distorting their true voices, however, it couldn't do anything drastic such as making her sound like a man.

She was surprised by what his words revealed—they meant he wasn't aware the red-haired woman he'd seen the other day had been her. Aerith certainly wasn't going to enlighten him to that fact. The less he knew about her, the better.

"Why are you here?"

He looked at her over his shoulder. "You really have to ask?"

She didn't. Shadows were only ever sent anywhere by one person, and one person alone.

"Midgar is mine!" Aerith snapped, stomping her foot, her fists clenched.

"Girl, you—"

She didn't even let him finish whatever he was going to say. Her right hand snapped out, the concealed metal cylinder in her palm snapping out into a long metal rod, roughly half her height. "Don't treat me like a child!"

He slowly got to his feet and turned to face her. "Why not? You're acting just like one."

Aerith ground her teeth, furious. How dare he come here, to _her_ city, and lecture her. Well, she'd teach him what it meant to cross her.

Darting forward, she swung the rod at his chest, the metal flashing in the moonlight. He didn't even move. It slammed into him and—to Aerith's immense frustration—rebounded, not even driving him back a single step. She leaped back, putting more distance between them, and dropped into a crouch to watch his next move.

The Shadow rolled his shoulders, the motion causing the muscles across his upper body to ripple under the suit. "Don't go starting fights you can't win," he said calmly.

"You're a cocky one, aren't you? Why don't you do something other than talk then?"

Shrugging in response, he bent down and picked up what had been lying on the ground next to him. Aerith unconsciously took a step back as the moonlight revealed what it was. A massive, hulking monstrosity of a sword. It had to be at least as tall as he was—including the double gripped handle—and was almost a foot wide. In comparison, her rod looked like a child's toy—which only made her even angrier.

At least with something that huge he wouldn't be able to—her jaw dropped as he spun the blade like it was a feather and smoothly sheathed it on his back. Even with the assistance his suit provided, she had to admit that had been impressive. Terrifyingly so. For the first time that night, Aerith wondered if she hadn't made a huge mistake.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" was his only warning before he _launched_ himself at her.

He covered the distance between them in the blink of an eye—giving her only a split second to react. Throwing herself out of the way, she barely managed to avoid his fist. Rolling as she hit the ground, she immediately jumped back up, regaining her feet and falling into a ready stance.

"Hah, was that—"

This time she didn't manage to avoid his punch. She'd been able to twist away from most of it, but he'd still barely clipped her side. Aerith went flying backward from the force of the blow. She skidded across the ground for a brief moment, before managing to gain control and come to a shaky stop. Her suit had absorbed most of the impact, but she knew she'd still have a large bruise come tomorrow morning.

"We don't have to do this," he called out, still standing back where he'd hit her.

As if she was going to let it end like this—he hadn't even drawn his weapon yet. Not . . . that she really wanted him to. If anything made her furious, though, it was being looked down on. Especially in a fight.

She twisted and flicked her rod, its other side now fully extending as well. A full-length quarterstaff, the same height as her, now rested in her hand. She spun it in a quick, practiced circle, grinning at the look of surprise on his face. His hand reached up for the hilt of the sword on his back before it froze, then fell back to his side.

So be it. It wasn't her fault if this hurt. Aerith shot towards him, staff whirling. Six clean strikes in half as many seconds. He managed to block the first two with his arms, but the last four all made solid impacts on his body. He staggered back, and before he could regain his balance, she swung a seventh time. Directly between his legs. She stopped the blow a hairsbreadth before it made contact, a smirk on her face.

"Not cool," he snarled as he leaped backward to safety. Thanks to another aspect of the suit she didn't fully understand, his mask perfectly mirrored his facial expressions.

Aerith planted the butt of her staff on the ground and waited for his next move. It looked like he was done playing around, as his hand finally reached up and pulled the sword from his back. Aerith swallowed. Hard. She wasn't scared, just . . . a tiny bit nervous.

"I'm going to make you regret that," he whispered, her enhanced hearing—thanks to the suit—still able to make it out.

Well, he'd already just done that so . . . maybe he could not? Not that she would ever admit that out loud. Bracing herself, Aerith readied for his assault. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the well-muscled Shadow barreling down at her with six, square-feet of cold steel held in both hands. Aerith didn't even try to block the blow—she got the hell out of the way.

There was a loud, horrible, screeching noise as his blade cut into the roof where she'd been standing. If that had hit her . . . Aerith didn't want to think about it. The Shadowsuit could only handle so much. Even if it prevented her from being cut, the sheer might behind a blow like that could still be enough to kill her. A momentary sense of weakness overwhelmed her, something she'd never expected to feel while in her suit. Then again, she'd never fought another Shadow before—outside of training.

Shaking her head to clear it, Aerith began to slowly circle the man, looking for any openings she could take advantage of. Her opponent was too skilled for that, however. He turned with her, each of them waiting for the other to make the next move. Deciding she didn't want to have to deal with another charge like the last, Aerith darted forward, her eyes fixed on his sword.

She tried the same six-blow strike from earlier. He blocked all of them with the flat of his blade. A sweep at his legs was avoided with a jump. His blade slashed out, and Aerith deflected it to the side. She lost track of time as they traded blow after blow, neither side able to land a decisive strike. They were both breathing hard now, their chests visibly rising as their lungs fought to keep up with their movements.

Eventually, the two of them split apart, each circling the other as they took a moment to recover. It didn't last long—his weight shifting slightly her only warning. He charged directly towards her, but this time Aerith was more prepared for the intimidating sight.

She parried his blow—twisting her body to absorb the impact—locking their weapons together between them. He stepped forward, pressing against her staff even harder. She couldn't help but realize how close together they were now. Their faces were almost touching, his breath hitting her cheek as he grinned at her. His eyes bore into her own. They were completely black, without even a trace of white, as if the pupil had consumed the rest entirely. She knew he was seeing the same sight looking into her own eyes—yet another way the mask concealed their identity.

"You're better than I thought."

The unexpected praise caught Aerith off guard, which she realized—too late—had been his goal. One of his hands broke away from the hilt of his sword and hit her square in the gut. In the split second before she went flying backward, Aerith twisted her staff between his legs. The strength of his blow gave her the leverage she needed to trip him, and she smiled as she heard him also hit the ground.

As she lay there on her back—struggling to breathe—Aerith felt a flicker of contentment pass through her. Their fight had been surprisingly . . . enjoyable. Feebly shoving that thought aside with what anger she could still muster, Aerith propped herself up into a sitting position. She refused to accept him. It didn't matter if he was a skilled fighter, capable of keeping up with her. He was still an unwelcome intruder.

 _Enough for tonight._ _Time to learn more about him._

Once she better understood his weaknesses, she'd have an easier time taking him down. "So, what's your name then?" she asked, once she'd recovered enough to speak.

His eyes met hers, a smug look of self-satisfaction on his face. "I'm Cleaver."

Aerith snorted when she heard his code name. She couldn't help it. As she saw him frown in response, she only started laughing harder.

"What's so damn funny?" he snapped, petulantly.

She struggled to get her laughter under control, eventually able to string a few words together. "It's just . . . so obvious!" she gasped. "I mean, _look_ at that hunk of metal next to you!"

He didn't seem to find this as amusing as she did, his frown only drawing the mask down even farther. "I take it that means you're not something like 'Staff' or 'Hothead' then?"

Ignoring his jibe, Aerith shook her head. "Belladonna," she said proudly.

"Bellawhat? No, that's way too complicated," he replied, shaking his head. "Just Bella, though, now that has a nice ring to it."

While she wasn't overly pleased with his nickname for her, Aerith had to admit she felt something twitch inside her when he said it. She pushed the feeling away, for now, it was something to consider later. "So, _Cleaver_ , what are you doing in _my_ city?"

Part of her already knew why he was here. For her. Otherwise, it didn't make any sense why he'd been watching her the other day, even though he hadn't known that had been her. The only problem was, that didn't make a whole lot of sense. Why would the Master have sent him after her in the first place, but not told him who she was? One thing was certain—Aerith wasn't going to be wearing red hair again for a while.

"Master said you'd be possessive, I guess I didn't . . ." he trailed off, and Aerith felt her cheeks heating under the mask. Fortunately, _that_ was at least something it wouldn't show.

"If I'm being honest, I'm not sure," Cleaver continued, hesitantly. "I have my mission, it just . . . doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

The confusion in his voice surprised her, especially compared to how confident he'd seemed during their fight. Aerith wasn't sure how to respond, so she went with the first thing that came to mind. "The Master's orders are all that matter, it's not our place to question what we don't understand."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Not because she was wrong, but because they'd come out harsher than she'd intended. Cleaver stiffened and sat up, looking away from her. Aerith was about to clarify what she'd meant when he spoke first.

"I don't need you to tell me that," he said coldly, grabbing his sword as he got to his feet. With a smooth flick, he sheathed it on his back. "I shouldn't even bother telling you, but _he_ wants to see you." Cleaver walked to the edge of the roof and paused, his back still to her.

"Cleaver, I—"

"Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours." With that, he was gone, vanishing into the twinkling lights below them.

Well, she'd certainly messed that up. It was probably for the best, considering her goal in the first place had been to get him out of Midgar. Except . . .

Aerith shook her head. No, it didn't matter how much fun she might have had during their little sparring match. Cleaver was a rival, nothing more. Quite possibly a dangerous rival, if he _had_ been sent to keep an eye on her. She'd need to try and learn more about whatever he'd been sent here for. The Master didn't dispatch Shadows lightly.

She was surprised he'd summoned her, although it did make sense given it had been nearly a year since the last time they'd met in person. The big question was why _now_. If it was something Cleaver couldn't be trusted to tell her, did that mean it was about him? Why would he not trust Cleaver in the first place? She forced herself to stop pointlessly speculating—she'd find out soon enough.

As she slowly headed back to her bedroom, Aerith made plans to leave first thing the next morning. Cleaver hadn't specified _when_ she was supposed to show up, and the last thing she wanted to do was make the Master wait. Even getting to the Shadow's base—an abandoned ruin, several miles due north of Midgar—was a journey in itself.

Finally reaching her apartment after what felt like much longer than it had probably been, Aerith slipped back inside through the window. She mentally triggered the release of the mask, before extracting herself from the suit. It was a fairly slow process, and she winced each time a fresh bruise was exposed to the air. Not wanting to wait on the water to heat up, she took a quick, cold shower, sighing in relief as the water ran relaxingly down her skin.

Drying herself off afterward, she was too tired to do anything else—pulling on the shirt she'd discarded earlier and leaving the Shadowsuit in a pile on the floor. The exhaustion from the fight hit her, redoubled by the lack of support from her suit. Settling into her bed, Aerith immediately fell into the deep, dreamless sleep she'd been seeking earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, the two-week time frame between updates _killed_ me. I do have some good news on that front though—I'm actually already done with the first few chapters of the story and making great headway! That said, I'm going to stick with the release schedule just in case something does come up that limits how much I'm able to write. Once the _entire_ story is complete, then I'll likely switch over to weekly updates because I'm so. Freaking. Excited. For everyone to be able to read more.
> 
> On that note, Cleaver enters the story! Who could this mysterious figure be? Only time will tell! I will say that he's a fairly important member of the story, so expect to be seeing a lot of him. 😉 We also get to learn about the iconic Shadowsuits. I hope the description wasn't too overwhelming and made sense, they're an extremely important part of the story moving forward and fairly complicated so I needed to give them a lot of initial attention. There's still a bit more to learn about them, but those details will be sprinkled in when appropriate.
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who's reading, especially an AU as different as I know this one is. As a writer, it really means a lot to see people engaging with your work—yes, that includes you as well, dear silent readers! Thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Next Chapter: Strength**


	3. Strength

Sighing in relief as she crested the final hill, Aerith rolled her neck and stretched her arms over her head as she overlooked the valley spread below her. The sun was almost directly above—nearly at its peak intensity—and she couldn't wait to get out from under it. Thankfully, the suit was helping with the worst of it. She said a silent prayer for the Aero Materia that kept a gentle flow of cool air running across the outside. Without it, the hot leather would have been completely insufferable.

Descending into the ruins, Aerith idly recalled the first time she'd ever made this journey.

_The ruins at the base of the valley were . . . majestic. She'd never seen anything so old and beautiful before, at least, she didn't think she had. She was still having trouble recalling her life before the fire, but he'd told her not to worry about that. With time, her memories would likely return._

_Aerith wasn't particularly worried. She was happy. Wasn't she? She stumbled slightly—a sudden lancing pain shooting through her head—as they made their way down the hill. His hand grabbed her shoulder to catch her before she tumbled head over heels. Turning, she smiled her thanks up at his masked face._

_The loss of her parents was still a gaping hole in her chest that occasionally still kept her up at night, but he was here for her now. He'd been so kind, so generous, to offer to take her in after she'd lost everything. With his help, he promised that she'd never be weak again. Never lose anything precious to her again. Nothing was more important than that._

Nothing.

_It was still surprising to her, however, that his apparently secret organization was based in a location that seemed so . . . obvious. He encouraged curiosity, so she figured she might as well ask as they reached the bottom of the slope. "Is this really the place? Here, out where anyone could stumble into it?"_

_He looked down at her, his lips quirked in amusement. She still didn't understand how his strange leather mask didn't obstruct his facial features in any way. "Do you disapprove, my child? Is it too dull for your taste? Too boring?"_

_Aerith shook her head. "No, but, we're right here. Dead in the middle of a location treasure seekers would flock to! How could this possibly be a good spot?"_

" _Ah, but don't you see? That's exactly_ why _it's so perfect—this will also be an important part of your training. Sometimes, the best way to disguise something is to simply leave it in plain sight."_

_She didn't fully understand but still felt like it made sense. Hearing about her training, however, made her forget anything about the location. She was so excited to begin, to learn how to be a Shadow. Bending down, she picked one of the yellow lilies that seemed to carpet the area, careful not to step on the others. It was beautiful, the bright smell filling her nose._

Aerith shrugged off the trivial memory as she passed through the deserted ruins around her. It was embarrassing how naive she'd been. How stupid. Obviously, the Master knew what he was doing. He'd been operating out of this location since long before that day, and never once had even a single rumor of the Shadow's presence gotten out. Of course, that wasn't to say there weren't _any_ rumors about the ruins.

They were considered cursed. Anyone still inside the valley when the sun fell behind the hills would never be seen again. Even during the day, it was said you could get lost in the twisting buildings and never find your way out. Aerith knew this was all complete bullshit. The tales served their purposes of keeping people away, but there was nothing mysterious about any of the deaths—they'd just been unfortunate enough to run into a Shadow.

Not caring as she crushed several flowers underfoot, she stepped into the remains of the largest building, situated at the very center of the ruins. Aerith paused in the doorway, surprised to see another Shadow standing against the far wall. A guard? That was certainly new. Drawing closer, she realized she actually recognized him.

"You playing guard dog now, Cerberus?" she teased.

He growled—actually growled—at her. "You're lucky I'm so fond of you girl. Anyone else would be writhing on the ground right now."

Unlike Cleaver, she didn't mind being called 'girl' by Cerberus. He'd been responsible for much of her combat training, and she had a deep respect for the older man. The Master had _never_ been a father figure to her, despite his large impact on her new life. Cerberus, on the other hand, had come much closer to filling that role. He'd been stern, but fair in his instruction and Aerith knew without his training, she wouldn't be the woman she was today.

"It's good to see you again too," she said warmly, stopping in front of him. A tear traced its way down her cheek, and Aerith was surprised to realize just how much she'd meant those words. She _wasn't_ lonely. Her isolation in Midgar was a huge responsibility, a sign of faith from the Master, and she accepted the consequences of that. Still . . . it _was_ nice to see a friendly face after so long.

"Come, the Master awaits." The faint smile on his lips was the only direct response to what she'd said. "He sent me to guide you, knowing your . . . proclivity to wander."

"So, not guard duty then?"

He didn't even bother to reply, and Aerith pouted as she followed him through the doorway that had appeared in the wall. Once on the other side, she hit the panel on the wall, causing the door to re-seal behind them. Simultaneously, the lights along the hallway they were in flickered on—completely banishing the darkness. As they made their way down the gently sloped incline, she decided to see if Cerberus knew anything about what was going on.

"What's the deal with Cleaver?"

He grunted. "I take it that means you've met? Let me guess, you attacked him."

Her face felt like it was on fire, and Aerith struggled to keep her embarrassment out of her voice. "He treated me like a child," she grumbled. It was a horrible excuse, she knew.

Cerberus's shoulders shook, but she couldn't hear any actual laughter. "I hope you won, at least. Cleaver's good, but you're better." The note of pride in his voice filled her with joy.

"It was a draw," she admitted. "But the next time won't be."

"Next time?" Aerith could _hear_ the raised eyebrow even though his back was still to her.

Before she could respond, they emerged from the passage into a large chamber—the Gathering Hall. It served no real purpose, acting simply as the main hub connecting the hidden base. Large archways in each of the four cardinal directions led to the base's three major subdivisions: the Living Quarters to the east, Training Grounds to the west, and the Master's Hall to the north. Aerith was surprised by how emotional it was to be back.

She was home.

"Look, Cleaver's a good kid. I won't ask you to get along with him, but I _am_ counting on you to help train him."

"I . . ."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that. Help train him? What did _that_ mean? She wasn't a teacher, hadn't ever helped teach another Shadow anything. Her own training had been completely overseen by only Cerberus and the Master. She knew there were other Shadows, but she'd never interacted with any of them. For some reason, those last two thoughts caused her to pause. Was that . . . right?

_A whirling spear above her._

_A flash of coal-black hair vanishing through a doorway._

Aerith hissed in pain, pressing a palm to her forehead as her head throbbed unexpectedly.

A warm hand gently squeezed her shoulder. "Belladonna? What's wrong, are you alright?"

She shrugged the hand away and straightened up, the strange pain having already vanished. "It's nothing, just a weird headache," she muttered. "What do you mean, train Cleaver?"

Cerberus frowned at her but didn't press any further. He gestured to the northern archway. "The Master will explain the details. We've already tarried long enough, best you hurry before he gets upset."

Aerith nodded and waved farewell, watching him head towards the Training Grounds as she made her way to the northern exit. The time had arrived. It had been over a year since she'd last seen him, and now that it was nearly time for their reunion, her stomach was flip-flopping between nervousness and excitement. Delaying any longer risked upsetting him, however, so she pushed aside her concerns and confidently strode down the hall. She'd done nothing wrong, she had no reason to worry.

Right?

As she made her way down the stone passageway, Aerith racked her brain—trying to think of any mistakes she'd made on her missions in the past year. It was an exhausting process, and by the time the hallway opened up into a cavernous chamber, all she'd managed to accomplish was giving herself another headache.

The room was massive, completely dwarfing the Gathering Hall. It stretched out on either side almost farther than the eye could see, colossal stone pillars shooting upwards from the floor to presumably connect with the ceiling lost in the murky darkness above. A line of bright Materia, set into the pillars, led to a glowing platform—embedded with dozens of the same orbs and elevated from its surroundings—dominating the center of the room. Resting on top of it was a massive stone chair.

Seated in the throne was the unmistakable form of the Master. He was tall—much taller than her—although in his current position it wasn't easily discernible. Unsurprisingly, he was wearing his black Shadowsuit—she'd never seen him dressed in anything else. Strangely, he wasn't alone. There were _two_ Shadows with him, one sitting in his lap, the other leaning against the throne—both female. The one in his lap seemed . . . occupied with the lower regions of his suit, his hands massaging her breasts, while the other Shadow studiously ignored them.

"Ah, your Sister has arrived at last!" he called out as Aerith approached. "Give us a moment, my dears, it's been too long since I've last seen our lovely Belladonna."

The Shadow who'd been standing by the throne immediately moved to leave, giving Aerith a brief nod as she passed her. Meanwhile, the woman in his lap lingered slightly, planting a kiss on his lips—despite them both being masked—before following after the taller one. She paused briefly as she walked past Aerith, her eyes flickering scornfully up and down her body.

"He's all yours," she whispered breathily, before heading to the exit.

Aerith ignored her—her nose wrinkling at the woman's overpowering perfume. As she drew closer, she stopped a few feet away from the base of the steps leading up to the throne. She dropped to one knee, lowering her head to look at the floor in front of her. "I received your summons and came as quickly as possible—Master."

"What, you're not going to take the place of your Sister?" he asked sadly, the sound of his hand patting his lap painfully clear.

Attempting to conceal her discomfort, Aerith lightly shook her head. It was dangerous to deny him anything, but he usually let her get away with small things. She just had to pick her battles _very_ carefully. "I'd prefer not to, unless that's an order," she said with more confidence than she felt, looking up at him.

He stared at her, an amused look in his pitch-black eyes. "Dolphin—and Kunai in particular—can be fun in their own right. But you, my dear"—he grinned broadly—"you are the prized flower of my garden."

Aerith perked up as his compliment washed over her. Most importantly, he wasn't upset.

"Enough kneeling, you know I hate that silly formality. Come closer, let me get a good look at you. It's been far too long . . ."

Getting to her feet, Aerith walked to the base of the stairs leading up to his chair but stopped there. Even from where she'd been kneeling, he wouldn't have had any trouble making out every tiny detail on her face—their masks made sure of that. For whatever reason, it was one of his more unusual quirks to pretend the suits weren't anything special.

"What's wrong, dear?" he asked, leaning in and squinting at her closely. "There's a look in your eyes I haven't seen in a long time."

Aerith swallowed nervously. Of course he'd notice. He knew her too well. "I . . . had the dream again," she whispered, averting her eyes, unable to look at him.

Weakness was unacceptable. A flaw. Shadows were supposed to be the ones terrifying others, not trembling in fear over their own silly dreams. She knew she was defective. And hated herself for it.

"Look at me."

Her eyes snapped back to his.

The quirk of his mouth confirmed her thoughts. Perhaps this was why he'd sent Cleaver. He _was_ losing faith in her abilities. Not that he'd ever actually say that to her, but as he watched her in silence, she knew he couldn't be thinking anything else.

"My dear," he finally said, "when I first found you, I knew you were someone special. A fighter. Someone who could look life in the eye and tell it to fuck off. I still believe that to this day. It's why I gave you Midgar."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her. The last thing she'd been expecting had been praise. "Then why? Why did you send Cleaver?!" Aerith demanded.

He was off his chair and over her in a heartbeat, faster than her eyes could follow. There was no time to react as his palm flashed out and—caressed her cheek? She'd expected to be thrown backward. It even felt like she had, her back crying out and her cheek aching. The pain faded as quickly as it had seemed to appear, a clear sign it had simply been her mind playing tricks on her.

"You may be my favorite, but that doesn't mean you get to question me," he reminded her sternly, his thumb gently rubbing her cheek—as if he were wiping away tears.

She nodded her head in agreement, surprised to realize she _was_ crying. Nothing had even happened, it wasn't like he'd actually hit her. It was another sign of her incompetence. And he was right, of course. Aerith owed him everything for what he'd done for her. The life he'd given her.

She remembered nothing of the time before he'd saved her. The dream was her only real connection back to that horrible period of her life. And as much as he tried to help her forget about it, it always came creeping back. Another reminder of her weakness.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. How could she think anything had changed? She was still the same weak, sniveling little girl he'd found all those years ago.

"Enough of that," he snapped, lovingly—her tears instantly stopping. "I didn't summon you just to get the chance to see you again, I have two missions for you."

"Two?" she asked, surprised. The timing at least was fortunate, both to help alleviate the boredom of not having a mission, but also because she wouldn't have to delay a current contract. Shadows were free to pursue contracts as they saw fit in their free time, but the Master's will always took priority.

He nodded, pacing in front of the throne. "The first is the most important. An eco-terrorist organization—calling themselves Avalanche—has been growing increasingly more violent. I believe they're planning something large around the parties Rufus Shinra is holding to celebrate the recently increased output of the Reactors. I want you to attend as a guest while making sure nothing happens to him."

He wanted her to protect _Rufus_? Aerith knew she'd never get an explanation from him, but this was easy enough to understand. Rufus's death would throw Midgar into complete chaos, something that wouldn't benefit the Shadows in any way. "I can't imagine Rufus is going to invite me to one of his famous balls," she said dryly.

"That won't be an issue," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I've already prepared an invitation for you, it will be in your room in the city by the time you're back."

"And the second mission is to train Cleaver?" she guessed.

He cocked his head in surprise. "I hadn't considered that a mission, but yes, that's also something I was counting on you for."

"Why me? Aren't you or Cerberus better suited for that?"

He smiled at her, but something was off—it seemed sad, his eyes empty. "His last test is something only you can help with, unfortunately."

"Last test?" she asked, puzzled. "But Cleaver already has his suit . . ."

"Oh, no, my dear. The suit isn't awarded afterward. The Final Test would be quite impossible without one. There's no reason for you to worry about that. For now, all you need to focus on is helping Cleaver to prepare."

Aerith was hopelessly confused. She didn't remember any of this from her own training, but she didn't question him. What he asked was simple enough, even if she didn't understand why it had to be her. The biggest issue was the fact it was Cleaver, especially considering how they hadn't exactly gotten off to the best start. "If that's not the other mission, then what is?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "A small task, really. It's related to the first. There's a particular member of Avalanche I want you to keep your eye on. He's fairly high up in the organization, I believe, goes by the name Cloud Strife. I have no doubt you'll be able to easily track him down."

So this man was from the same terrorist group planning an attack on Rufus? She'd have to do some research on her own to learn more about this 'Avalanche' since it didn't seem like the Master was going to explain further. "And what am I supposed to do once I find him?"

"Nothing, at least initially. Just monitor him. But if he does anything suspicious, anything at all, kill him."

Of all the things he'd told her, this was possibly the most unusual. Why not just eliminate him in the first place? Shrugging, she nodded her head. "Understood. By the shadow's grace, I shall carry out your will."

"Good. Now, come give me a hug."

She happily stepped forward, but her arms refused to follow her commands. For a fraction of a second, it seemed like he scowled before he took a step closer to her. His arms folded around her, holding her tight. Despite the heat of his body, a shiver ran down her spine. She knew something was wrong with her. Shouldn't she be overflowing with thankfulness for everything he'd done her? A simple hug wasn't a big deal, it shouldn't make her feel sick inside. It was clearly another indication of her weakness.

After what was likely only a few seconds—but felt like hours—he pulled away, his hand lifting to brush a thumb over her lips. "Go. Say farewell to your Sisters. Stay the night if you want, perhaps the four of us can relax together."

Bowing, she turned and left, the feeling of his eyes on her back not fading until she stepped into the hallway. As she made her way back towards the entrance, Aerith's mind spun with all the information she'd been given. Protect Rufus from Avalanche. Investigate Cloud. Train Cleaver. None of them were terribly challenging on their own, although managing all three at once could prove difficult. More than anything, it didn't make sense why he'd felt the need to deliver the missions in person. He'd relied on messages for the past year, what had changed?

She came to a halt in the center of the Gathering Hall, hesitating. The southern exit was a welcome escape back to Midgar, but the Master _had_ encouraged her to talk with her Sisters. It wouldn't hurt to take a few minutes to check in on them. Besides, she _was_ curious to get to know them better. Making up her mind, she turned to her left and headed into the Living Quarters.

None of the doors along the dark hallway had any indication of who they belonged to, but two of them had light sneaking out from under them. She knew her old room was farther down the hall, past the currently occupied rooms. It could wait till later. Deciding she might as well start with the closest, Aerith knocked gently on the door.

"Master, is that you? Get in here!" a faint but chipper voice called out. She recognized it as the shorter of the two women, the one the Master had referred to as Kunai.

Despite being misidentified, she went ahead and opened the door, a quick sweep of her eyes indicating no one was immediately inside. She left the door partially open behind her. "Not the Master, no. Just Belladonna."

The room was nostalgic, even though it wasn't her own. A simple bed rested against the far wall, a table and chair at the end of it. There was a large closet on the left wall, the door slightly ajar, although not wide enough for her to see anything inside. A door to the right led to the bathroom, which she knew was a small room with all the basic essentials. Aerith froze as Kunai walked out of the bathroom.

"Oh, well _that's_ disappointing."

The other woman was completely naked.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were changing," Aerith said. "You should have let me know, I can come back later." She turned to leave.

"No, no, don't go!" The other Shadow caught her hand and tugged her into the center of the room before letting go and dropping down onto her bed. "This is how I like to relax, not all that different from wearing the suit is it?"

Aerith felt like there was a _very_ large difference, but wasn't about to start an argument about _that_. Even though the Shadowsuit was form-fitting, it wasn't so much different from a tight dress. If anything, it concealed slightly more, given it was made out of a thicker material than simple cloth. Averting her eyes, she did note that the younger woman had short, black hair.

"So, have some fun alone time with the Master? You sat with him, right? He's so wonderful, isn't he? Didja make out?"

Taken aback by the barrage of questions, Aerith settled on answering the last since it was the easiest. "No, we only hugged."

"What! Does that mean you didn't even taste those sinfully sweet lips of his? I can't believe it. He never stops talking about you, you know? Not sure what's so much better about you than me . . ."

"You've seen the Master's face?" Aerith asked, shocked by the implication. Her attention was fixed back on the naked woman, her earlier concern for her modesty forgotten. Unsure what to make of it, she ignored the final part of what the woman had said.

Kunai waved her hand dismissively. "Of course not, silly. _No one_ has ever seen his face, at least not anyone still alive."

The other woman stopped there, clearly waiting on Aerith to ask the obvious question. So she did. "How could you have tasted his lips then?" She highly doubted he would have unsealed the suit, muchness removed his mask.

The other woman grinned wickedly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "He used a Darkness Materia on me—couldn't see a thing. Then he did the most absolutely delicious things to my body." She shivered, her eyes closing. "I'll _never_ forget that night . . ."

Aerith couldn't keep the look of disgust off her face. "Are you even old enough for that?"

"I'm twenty–four, I'll have you know, and there's no need to be jealous—I'm sure if you asked, he'd be _more_ than happy to give a hottie like you the same, special treatment." Kunai looked her up and down, her eyes settling on Aerith's chest. "I mean, just look at your tits. I'd kill to have a pair like that. You're not as big as Dolphin's, though. Still not fair a babe like me is stuck with just these," she complained, her hands cupping her naked breasts.

Aerith wasn't sure how to respond to _any_ of that, nor was she very comfortable with the way Kunai was eyeing her. She was used to men sizing her up, but the look in the younger woman's eyes was somehow even _more_ predatory.

"Maybe I can find a Materia that will let me grow them . . ."

Aerith was pretty confident Materia like that didn't exist, but she wasn't about to tell Kunai that. "Maybe?"

"Anyways, you should stay the night! Strip off that suit, come relax with me. I bet we could get Dolphin to join in, turn it into a slumber party. Maybe the Master would drop by and then we could turn it into a _real_ party." Her eyes were gleaming.

It was slightly unnerving how closely that last part resembled what the Master had said earlier—the two of them were certainly on the same page. "I'll . . . consider it," Aerith said hesitantly, lying through her teeth. "It was nice to meet you, Kunai." Another lie.

"Oooo, you've got a killer ass too!" Kunai called out as she turned to go.

Leaving the room in disgust, Aerith wondered if it was even worth the effort of visiting Dolphin. For some reason she couldn't explain, she felt the taller woman wouldn't act the same way Kunai had. Trusting her instincts, she made her way across the hall to the only other room with light peeking through the gaps of the doorframe. She wrapped her knuckles against the door.

"Come in!" a kind voice called out.

Aerith gently pushed the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind her. A part of her wondered at this, closing off her only means of escape, but she dismissed it. To her immense relief, Dolphin was still fully clothed in her suit.

"Bella," the woman said warmly in greeting, standing up from the table that was a copy of Kunai's. She noticed one, surprising difference, however—a small vase, filled with the yellow lilies that grew in the ruins above.

Aerith was shocked to hear the name on her lips, her head jerking in surprise to stare at the woman standing across the room. "Have we met?"

"I—" Dolphin abruptly grabbed her head, her entire body doubling over.

Aerith stepped forward in alarm, but Dolphin thrust out her other hand, keeping her at bay. A moment later, the other woman was back upright, a hand resting on her temple the only sign anything had happened.

"Sorry, we haven't, no. I'm not sure what came over me." Her voice was shaky and weak, but the glare in her eyes indicated she didn't want to go into any more detail. "Did you need something from me?"

"I just wanted to say hello." A spike of sadness shot through Aerith at the sudden coldness in the other woman's voice.

"I'd love to chat, but I'm not feeling so well, maybe another time?"

"Sure, I'm sorry to hear that."

Dolphin settled down on her bed, one hand resting on her forehead as she lay down. "Are you staying the night?" Her voice had lost some of its chill, the old warmth seeping back in.

"I'm not sure, I think it's better if I leave," Aerith said hesitantly.

"Probably a good call. I need to fall asleep before Kunai tries to rope me into something with the Master."

"He doesn't . . . force you to do anything, right?"

"No. Fortunately. Nothing like that." Dolphin sighed loudly. "I suppose I should be thankful to Kunai, she keeps him occupied in that regard."

Aerith turned to the door, wanting to talk more, but also not wanting to pressure Dolphin. "I should get going. Stay safe, I'd like to get to know you better."

"You too, Sister."

As she closed the door behind her, Aerith was surprised how hard Dolphin's final word had hit her. Sister. She knew it was simply the name the Master used when referring to the female shadows—he liked to pretend they were one, big family—but coming from her it had felt more . . . real. Then there was the fact the other woman had used a nickname for her. Aerith struggled to recall if _she_ remembered the Shadow from her past but came up completely blank. It didn't make any sense.

Deciding to pay her old room a quick visit, Aerith walked farther down the hallway, gently pushing open the familiar door as she reached it. She coughed as a cloud of dust was kicked up by the movement of the door—no one had lived here for a very long time. The room mirrored the two from earlier, other than the heavy, grey coating resting on everything. There was only one sign the room had even belonged to her in the first place—a glass vase, lying in the center of the table. A single, dead, flower rested inside. She was surprised it hadn't disintegrated yet.

Now that she was here, Aerith strongly considered spending the night but found the thought held no warmth. She hadn't liked the look in Kunai's eyes either, as much as she would have enjoyed spending more time with Dolphin. No, it was best for her to head back to Midgar. Even if that meant she'd most likely arrive late, in the middle of the night. She idly wondered if Cleaver would still be awake. If so then maybe they could—

What in the name of Gaia was wrong with her? Why was she thinking of _Cleaver_ , of all people? She'd train him at the Master's orders, but that didn't mean she was going to trust him—much less befriend him. Firmly shutting the door behind her, she stalked back to the Gathering Hall, annoyance coursing through her. How _dare_ he intrude on her thoughts like that?

Moving towards the exit to the south, Aerith stopped as she felt a twinge of guilt. It didn't feel right leaving without saying goodbye to Cerberus. Her mind already made up, she crossed the room, heading for the Training Grounds instead. The connecting hallway was short, and it only took a few seconds to reach her destination. She emerged onto a raised platform with a winding set of stairs leading down to where the Shadows honed their skills.

The sight took her breath away, as it always did. Weapons of every imaginable kind lined the walls, more than she could ever possibly count. The grounds were divided up into multiple sections, each for a specific type of training. Sparring, stealth, agility, large scale combat—there was a staggering amount of specialized zones, including even a dance floor. Shadows were expected to be masters in each and every one. Aerith had spent years training here before being sent on her first mission.

Cerberus was alone, balanced atop a large, metal pole—his eyes closed in concentration. She made her way down the stairs, passing through various training areas before coming to a stop in front of him.

"It's been a long time since you were last here," he said, his eyes still closed.

Aerith smiled wistfully. "It has. I . . . miss it." She was surprised at how much she did.

Cerberus dismounted with a jump, elegantly flipping in midair before landing next to her—completely silent. "Why did you come? Not for a round of sparring, I imagine."

She laughed happily. "No, I have a long journey back. Wouldn't want to do it covered in bruises. I came to say farewell."

"You sell yourself too short, you're more than capable of taking me on these days. Come, I'll walk you to the exit."

Together, they headed back the way she'd come, Aerith trailing behind him.

"I trust your meeting with the Master went well?"

How to answer _that_? "It was fine. I know what I need to do now."

Cerberus grunted. "He won't be pleased you're not spending the night."

"He never told me to." Aerith knew she sounded too defensive.

He turned to look over his shoulder at her, one eye raised. "You know he wants you to though."

"I'm capable of making my own decisions!" she snapped, instantly angry with herself for taking it out on him.

"I know. And I can't say I blame you. Just . . . be careful. You push so much, I worry."

She lightly punched his shoulder from behind. "Pfft, I'll be fine. You worry too much, old man."

Cerberus chuckled ruefully, shaking his head, but didn't continue to push as they arrived back at the Gathering Hall. They stopped in front of the southern archway.

"It was good to see you again," he said.

Before she realized what she was doing, her arms were around him—hugging him tightly. "Thank you, for everything." A gentle smell of gunpowder mixed with oak filled her nose. It was strangely comforting.

His initial stiffness faded as he slowly wrapped his arms around her in return, one hand lightly rubbing her back. "I only helped show you the path, you're the one who's walking it."

And then she was gone, heading back upwards so he wouldn't see her break down. It was a long way back home, and she desperately wanted to fall into her bed and cry. She sniffed, pushing the tears away. She could do this. She was strong.

Wasn't she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of new code names this chapter. Just to be 100% clear, none of these are OCs. In selecting their names, I tried to make it clear who everyone is, and this should hopefully become more obvious as the story goes on if you're still not sure who's who. Aerith's code name is easily the most complicated, but since we hear it directly from her it's not an issue.
> 
> I also know that parts of this chapter are . . . weird. Haha. It's honestly a bit scary since I'm worried it will end up driving some people away. Hopefully, it's clear that a lot is going on under the scenes here and this will all make more sense down the road as we continue to learn what's going on. I can assure you that as unusual as some of the word choices may have seemed, they were all quite intentional. In the end, I just have to hope you'll trust me and look forward to finding out the answers to the insane number of questions I'm sure this chapter raised.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for the continued support for this story, it really means so much to me!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Next Chapter: Training**


	4. Training

The Master had been right, as always—tracking down Cloud had proven to be surprisingly simple. He'd been in town for only about a week but was already well known in the Sector Seven slums. Apparently, no one was his match in a drinking contest. Or the brawls that inevitably seemed to pop up right afterward. Aerith wasn't entirely sure that was something to be _proud_ of, but it was what it was.

She was watching Cloud from the second-floor balcony of Seventh Heaven—a bar in the slums with a reputation for the best drinks in the city. The claim seemed fairly boastful to her, but it was far too early in the day for her to test it. Not that _that_ stopped the man at the table on the floor below her from taking a deep swig out of the tankard in his hand.

The layout of the bar had ended up working out extremely well for her purposes. The first floor was fairly standard, comprised of a dozen tables each with four chairs spaced evenly around the room. Along the wall opposite the entrance was the bar itself—the most popular place to be it seemed, since all of the stools were currently occupied. On either side of the front door, a set of stairs led up to the second floor which only had tables around the edge—the central portion instead left open to look down on the ground level.

Aerith wondered if spiky hair was a new trend she hadn't noticed until now. First Rufus's red-haired bodyguard, then the black-haired asshole she'd run into with Hojo, and now Cloud. Of course, the only other thing those three men shared was her universal dislike, although that didn't really have anything to do with their hairstyle.

She couldn't see his eyes from this angle, but from the description she'd received on the street earlier, she knew they were blue. Blond hair, blue eyes, just like Rufus. Aerith snorted softly as she imagined the president of Shinra downing cheap beer in the slums of the city. Now _that_ would be a sight to see.

Cloud was alone at his table near the edge of the room, other patrons giving him a wide berth. Apparently, his reputation was enough at this point to dissuade anyone else from messing with the well-muscled man. From what she'd gathered, the fights had been short, but brutal. He'd stepped away from all of them uninjured, while the same certainly could not be said of his opponents. He hadn't killed anyone though—at least, not yet.

Idle curiosity made her wonder what might have happened, to cause someone to drown themselves in their sorrow like this, but another part of her honestly didn't care. This task was already grating on her, and she'd only been watching him for an hour at this point. She hated quiet missions like this. It would have been so much more enjoyable to go down there, kick his chair out from under him, and show him what a real fight was.

A nagging voice at the back of her mind cautioned she was being overconfident. Aerith frowned and silenced it. What was wrong with her? Overconfidence would be if he was a match for her, which was _clearly_ not possible. It didn't matter how good he was in a bar fight, she'd been trained for years by skilled professionals, far more experienced in fighting than some random nobody.

Still, she did have to admit he was certainly in shape, despite the heavy drinking, and he'd probably put up at least _some_ form of a fight. It was honestly a shame, wasting away like this. He had the build of a fighter, and it seemed like he shouldn't have any trouble working in that capacity. Maybe as a bodyguard?

Regardless, none of that mattered. Aerith forced her overactive imagination to focus back in on the mission at hand—monitoring this strange, drunken man. On the plus side, it looked like it was going to be exceptionally easy to do so, especially if he ended up spending the entire day here. Unfortunately, that also meant _she_ was going to be stuck here—inside—all afternoon.

Leaning back in her chair, she tried to come up with something, _anything_ , to help keep herself occupied. Her eyes wandered around the room, watching the waiters serving customers and people coming and going. Even this early in the afternoon the place was surprisingly busy, although no one else could compare to Cloud. She took another sip of the alcohol-free cocktail she'd ordered, wondering how many of these she'd have to go through or risk being asked to leave.

Aerith couldn't remember ever being this bored on a mission before. Thankfully, tonight was something to look forward to; Rufus's party was certain to be infinitely more entertaining than this. Her eyes caught on a painting hanging on the far wall, depicting a mountain with a large lake at the base. It looked wonderful, the perfect, quiet location to get away from the chaos of the city. She could feel her eyes growing heavier, her attention wandering . . .

* * *

Her lungs burned. Both her arms and her legs were numb, but she forced herself to push on. She was so close. Just a tiny bit more and—

Aerith's hand brushed against the stone wall and she surged upward, her head exploding through the surface of the water above her. The sound of clapping filled her ears as she gasped for breath, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

"Congratulations, you shattered your old record," Cerberus said.

"By how much?" she asked, still breathing heavily as she pulled herself out of the pool to sit on the edge.

"Nine seconds."

It was a good time, one she should be proud of, but all she felt was frustration. She was _better_ than this. If she was going to earn her title—and the suit that came with it—she had to be.

"You pushed yourself a bit too hard at the end there. I know you're eager, but if you end up hurting yourself it's only going to make everything take longer."

He was right, damn him, but she didn't regret it. "I've been training for eleven years now, that's _half_ of my life! And still, the Master says I'm not ready."

"You're not," he said calmly, one side of his mouth quirked in a half-smile. "I was in training for nineteen years before the Master gave me my suit." He held out his hand to stall the words on her lips. "Don't worry, at the impressive rate you've been going, it won't take you nearly as long as it did for me."

She knew his words should have encouraged her, but she'd already heard them so many times. It wasn't that she'd expected this to be a fast process, Aerith just hadn't realized how long it would actually take. She wanted it to be over already, wearing her suit, on her first mission—executing the Master's will on the world, guiding it to a better future.

"Sometimes I feel like you and the Master are playing around and I'll never actually be a Shadow," she said bitterly.

Cerberus frowned down at her. "Careful girl, words have weight too."

Aerith flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I know—"

"You're tired, it's been a long day. You can have the rest of the afternoon off," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" Getting to her feet, she stripped off the extra weights attached to her wrists and ankles, tossing them in a pile to the side of the pool. She always felt so light once they were off. "I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He paused, looking back at her over his shoulder. "I won't go easy on you."

"Good, I don't want you to."

She could have sworn he looked happy as he turned away. "Sparring ring, five minutes. And put those weights back where they belong."

Excited, Aerith bent down and picked up the weights, rushing to return them to the storage room. Today would finally be the day she'd beat her instructor in a duel. With the weights carefully returned to their proper location, she rushed over to the sparring field—easily her favorite part of the training area. Cerberus was waiting for her in the center of the sandy, square ring, loading a handgun with odd-looking shells.

"We're doing something a little different today," he explained, noticing her curious look at the gun. "Up to this point, we've focused on melee weapons, direct physical contact. That's not always going to be the case, however. You need to learn how to deal with an opponent at range, both their strengths _and_ their weaknesses."

She swallowed nervously. "Wait . . . you're going to be _shooting_ me?"

Cerberus nodded, smiling softly. "Shooting _at_ you," he clarified. "Ideally I won't be hitting you, although if I do, these are non-lethal rounds."

Oh great, well that made her feel _so_ much better. Grabbing a wooden training staff from the side of the ring, she gingerly stepped inside. "So, what? I try to attack you?"

"No, that would be stupid. Pretend I have real bullets and for whatever reason, you're not in a Shadowsuit. How would you beat me?"

Aerith thought about it for a moment. "I wouldn't, at least, not on your terms. I'd fall back, force you into close quarters. Eliminate the advantage you have at range."

Cerberus's eyes widened slightly and he nodded grudgingly. "An excellent answer, if not exactly the one I was looking for. Let's extend this hypothetical situation, however, and say you _have_ to attack."

"I . . . I don't know. That sounds impossible, not without a suit."

"Relying too heavily on the suits can be a crutch," he said, frowning. "Your other answer touched on what you need to do."

"Obviously I have to close the distance, but you'll just shoot me if I try. That's the strength you mentioned."

"Correct, but you've missed two of the key weaknesses: ammunition and aiming. Don't move in straight lines. Be erratic, both vertically _and_ horizontally. You're extremely agile in the first place, use that to your advantage. Now, enough talk. Your goal is to touch me with your staff without getting hit."

Aerith started by jumping to the left, then immediately changing direction into a roll to the right. She heard Cerberus's gun go off, followed by the sound of the shot hitting the sand to her left. She'd done it! Now she just had to—

The second bullet hit her side, the shock of the impact causing her to lose her balance and crash to the ground. Surprisingly, it hadn't hurt as much as she'd expected, although it certainly wasn't an experience she was eager to repeat anytime soon.

"You paused too long in celebration. Remember that minor victories mean nothing. Again."

This time she moved to the right, then dropped to the ground, hearing the shot whiz over her. She immediately realized she'd made a mistake and wasn't surprised as another impact hit her back. "Stay in motion, I know," she said, hopping to her feet and moving back to the starting position.

"Good. Again."

This continued for several more attempts, Aerith never managing to avoid the third shot, but getting better and better at avoiding the second. She realized the problem was that by getting closer, she was also making it easier for him to not miss, regardless of how unpredictable she could be. Her mounting frustration was only matched by the soreness from the repeated shots she'd taken.

"This is impossible," she snapped, standing up yet again. "I'm dead twenty times over at this point. What's the point of this?"

She'd thought her outburst would annoy him, but instead, he nodded, lowering the gun to his side. "I have to confess, your initial answer was actually the correct one. You weren't supposed to figure it out until after realizing how futile anything else would be, but I should have known you'd be clever enough to figure it out."

Aerith found herself blushing at the compliment, her earlier annoyance forgotten. "So the lesson was to _not_ do what you wanted?"

Cerberus laughed, a warm friendly rumble that made her grin back at him. "Ultimately, yes. That, and teaching you not to throw your life away. It's better to live and fight another day than go down in a blaze of glory."

* * *

Smiling, Aerith blinked as she returned to the present, the comforting memory fading away. It had been a good lesson, on multiple levels. Cerberus had such an engaging way of teaching, always encouraging her to think outside the box. He'd taught her combat wasn't simply a contest of strength, it was a puzzle—meant to be approached from multiple angles with creative solutions. Once she became a Shadow, she'd found this applied to almost any type of mission, even the most mundane.

Her cheerful mood vanished as she checked back on Cloud. By the _Planet_ this was dull. The Master had said to kill him if he did anything suspicious, but by this point, that would mean doing literally _anything_ other than downing another beer. One of which was currently being set down in front of him as the waiter took the old one away. How was he still _going_?!

All of this sitting around was getting to her. Yes, she'd wanted a mission, but this . . . this was more like torture. The thought made her wonder if this was actually a hidden form of punishment. It was hard to imagine why the Master would care about this sad drunk. Had she gotten the wrong person? That seemed unlikely, the name wasn't exactly common, and the Master had indicated he'd be easy to locate.

Aerith sank deeper into her chair, her eyes growing heavy. It hadn't helped that she'd arrived back at the city so late last night. If there was one thing she refused to do, it was falling asleep while on a mission—no matter how pointless it might seem. She yawned widely, her eyes drifting down . . .

* * *

Aerith hit the ground. Hard. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth and she faintly realized she'd bitten her lip.

"Get up."

She struggled to obey, her arms and legs straining, but failed to make any progress. She was just _so_ tired. "I . . . I can't," she whispered.

" _Get. Up."_

She didn't know how, but somehow she found herself back on her feet. Barely.

"Pick up your staff, we're going again."

Aerith wanted to drop to the floor, sobbing, except that was what the old her would have done. The new Aerith was stronger, she had to be. Slowly, she bent down, her knees screaming as she fumbled for her weapon. Her fingers found it, and it took all of the little remaining effort she had just to lift it. When had it become so heavy? Staggering back to her feet, she used the staff to help prop herself up.

"Enough rest. Attack me."

She wanted to. She wanted to _so_ badly. But she couldn't. Not anymore. Aerith stumbled forward weakly, swinging her staff at him with limp arms. She knew it was pathetic, but it was the best she could manage given the current situation.

He contemptuously side-stepped her swing, his long wooden training sword lashing out like a striking snake. Her head hit the floor and she was swallowed by blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

When she woke, her cheek was resting on his chest, the leather filling her nose with its distinctive, organic smell. His hand was gently running through her hair.

"Oh my poor child, you know I only want the best for you, right?"

She nodded her head weakly against him. "I'm sorry I'm so weak."

"Shhh, that's not true. I push _because_ of how strong you are. You have so much potential. So much _will_. Once you complete your training, you will be the strongest of all my children."

Aerith desperately wanted that moment to be here. Anything to take away the feeling of overwhelming weakness. His words gave her confidence, though, and her back straightened slightly. "I won't let you down."

"You couldn't even if you tried," he murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. "Now go, you have your stealth lessons with Cerberus next."

If it was already time for her next training then she must have been out for a few hours. Aerith wanted nothing more than to go back to her room, collapse on her bed, and sleep for a month. Instead, she staggered to her feet, stumbling her way out of the Master's Hall towards the Training Grounds. It took her far longer than it should have, and she hoped Cerberus wouldn't be angry she was late.

As she slowly entered the area of the grounds populated by several fake buildings, she found him waiting for her in the central plaza. When Cerberus saw her, Aerith thought he frowned briefly, but she wrote it off as a sign of her exhaustion.

"Good, you're here. I trust you're ready to begin?"

She wasn't. At all. But that wasn't an acceptable answer. "I am."

"Excellent. Come sit over here and we'll start."

Aerith dropped to the ground where he indicated, struggling not to collapse and worried she wouldn't be able to get back up. This wasn't her first stealth lesson, and they usually involved extremely careful and constant motion, so she was confused at how this was starting.

"Alright, now, close your eyes."

She did as instructed, wondering where this was going. They'd never done anything like this before. Despite her closed eyes, she could still tell when he extinguished the lights illuminating this portion of the grounds. She frowned slightly. "Cerb? What's going on?"

"Training. Stop talking. I want you to think stealthy thoughts."

Her eyes shot open. "Wha . . . Think stealthy thoughts? Seriously?"

"You heard me girl, and close those eyes! Become one with the shadows."

Aerith reluctantly closed her eyes again. She didn't understand how this was supposed to accomplish _anything_ , but she had to admit it was nice to take a moment to relax. Especially after . . . earlier. As the minutes slowly passed, she found herself drifting into a calm void.

* * *

"Too much to drink?"

Aerith nearly fell out of her chair as she was jerked back to reality by the warm, feminine voice. She blinked up at the black-haired, red-eyed woman peering down at her. She'd never seen her before and yet . . .

"Have we met before?"

The crimson eyes blinked in surprise. "I don't think so. It's not every day I see someone with hair almost as long as mine. Such a beautiful blonde color too."

Aerith smiled softly, reaching up to tuck some loose hair back behind her ear—her bracelet clinking lightly against her earring. "Thank you, that's very kind. I like your black hair, I wish mine were darker."

"You could always try dying it, would probably work well. I bet you'd make a gorgeous brunette!"

She pretended to consider this for a moment, internally amused. "I dunno, I've always been too worried about damaging it. Maybe I'll reconsider." Glancing past the woman to the table below, Aerith's stomach dropped. He was gone.

"Something wrong?"

Aerith scrambled to come up with an excuse, cursing herself for falling asleep and losing track of him. This was a disaster, a complete failure on her part. "No, nothing. Just surprised to see that one guy stopped drinking, never thought he would until you ran out." She paused as the last part of what she'd come up with sank in. "You . . . didn't run out, did you?"

The woman laughed merrily. "No, we didn't run out, not even Cloud could drink _that_ much." Her face took on a more serious look. "Although he certainly tries," she muttered.

"Oh, you know him?"

"Not personally, no. He's got quite the reputation though. But enough about random drunks, I'm Tifa," the woman said, holding out one hand while balancing the tray held in her other against her shoulder.

"Nice to meet you Tifa, I'm Aerith," she said, gripping the other woman's hand—noting in surprise how calloused it was. "How long have you worked here?"

Tifa tilted her head to the side, a look of confusion on her face changing into a soft smile. "Huh, guess you don't know. I don't just work here, I actually own the place," she said, winking.

Aerith's eyes widened slightly. "Oh . . . wow. Don't you have other people to handle cleaning up?" she asked, gesturing to the tray.

"Sure, but it gets boring letting them handle everything." Her eyes twinkled. "Plus, sometimes I get to meet super interesting people."

Aerith giggled softly. "I don't think I'm anyone special, but thanks."

"I'm sure that's not true. What do _you_ do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, you know, this and that . . ." She looked away from Tifa, down at the table. "I help people with their problems."

"Like a therapist?"

Aerith struggled not to laugh at the example. "Yes, that's the word I was looking for. Silly me."

"Well, Aerith, if I need someone to talk to, you'll be the first person I'll come to."

She smiled softly. This was . . . nice. She'd never had a friend—at least, not from the time she could recall after the incident—but Aerith felt like she and Tifa would have gotten along well. Unfortunately, that simply wasn't an option. Nothing good would come out of getting closer to this woman. If anything, she'd only end up putting her in danger, or worse. No, it was best—for both their sakes—to keep her distance.

"I'd like that, Tifa," she said, meaning every word, but knowing it was impossible.

"I've got to get back to it, can't let my employees see me slacking off too much or they might start doing the same. I'll see you again?"

Aerith nodded, waving farewell as the woman left. She moved with elegant grace, in a manner Aerith could have sworn was familiar—except that didn't make any sense. Writing it off, she looked back at the empty table below.

_Failure. Inept. Pathetic. Weak._

The words had no voice, but they flooded her mind, drowning her. She surged to her feet, breathing heavily—her chair landing on its back behind her. Forcefully pushing them away, she bent and righted the chair, tucking it back in under the table.

Yes, she'd made a mistake, but it was hardly a large one. Cloud hadn't been alerted to her presence, he'd simply wandered off while she dozed. Besides, it wasn't like it would be hard to track him down again. Glancing over at a clock hanging on the wall, she stretched, her muscles tight from sitting for so long. It was time to head home and prepare for tonight.

* * *

Aerith made her way up the walkway towards the towering building at the end. Rufus's extravagant parties had first started half a year ago, rapidly becoming the talk of the city's elite. He'd built this ballroom specifically to host them. While she'd never been inside, she had heard plenty of stories of how impressive it was. She'd never paid the building much attention in the past, but now, as she drew closer, Aerith understood why people were so intrigued.

It was huge, over three stories tall, and laid out in a large rectangle. The exterior was constructed of polished white stone, a stark contrast to the grey metal used by the rest of the city. Windows covered the sides of the building, the bottom row twice as large as the ones above—indicating there were only two floors. At night, she'd been able to see the shining lights of the chandeliers hanging inside leaking out into the darkness, but she'd avoided looking too closely—worried of ruining her night vision.

Reaching the plaza in front of the building, Aerith joined the back of the line of people waiting to be granted entrance. There was a fair number of guests ahead of her, mostly couples, and no other single women—at least not that she could see. Everyone was dressed formally, the men in tuxedos, and the women in various dresses and gowns. There were even a few dresses she made a mental note of, possible options to add to her already large collection. You never knew when an occasion might call for a specific outfit.

She was currently wearing one of her favorite dresses—one she hardly ever had a reason to take out since it was designed specifically for dancing. The fact the mission tonight had given her an excuse to put it to use filled her with joy. The lavender dress wasn't strapless, although the straps were made out of a clear material so it appeared to be from a distance. The front was a gentle v-cut, ending just above her cleavage, while the back was exposed in a u-cut down to right below the middle of her back. The top of the dress was tight, similar to her suit, and perfectly conformed to her body—emphasizing all of her curves.

An explosion of flower petals adorned the right side of the bust, twisting around the side and connecting to the skirts along the backside. On the other side, dozens of tiny gemstones flowed down over the bodice, stopping as they reached the waist—amethysts and diamonds mixing together in elegant swirls. The skirts flared outward, heavily layered, with more flower petals running down the front, sides, and back. The hem of the dress gently brushed the floor, concealing her silver dance heels—at least while she stood still.

Accompanying the dress, she wore a delicate pair of white, silk, elbow gloves. She loved the way they complemented the dress, in addition to drawing attention to her arms. They did slightly complicate things though. Wearing her bracelet over them looked a little odd, and drew too much attention to the important jewelry. Instead, she had attached it around her left ankle, concealed under the skirts of her dress. It was a much tighter fit as an anklet but had fortunately been designed specifically with this case in mind.

As a result, her hair was the same black she usually disguised it as—done up in her favorite rope braid—accompanied by her purple-blue eyes. Since she was here to protect Rufus, it was easier to allow him to recognize her, just in case something went wrong. She wasn't worried about anyone else identifying her—the handful who might be able to, certainly wouldn't be present tonight—and Rufus was cautious enough to not give her away. The more pressing concern was what, if anything, Avalanche was planning.

Unfortunately, she hadn't had much time to investigate them—certainly not as much as she would have liked. What little she'd managed to gather indicated they were a fairly widespread organization, broken down into smaller cells, scattered around the city. It spoke of smart, coordinated leadership, and that . . . that worried her. For now, she pushed those concerns to the side. This was only the first gathering of the two-week-long festivities, and regardless of how organized Avalanche might be, it was unlikely they'd already be prepared to take action.

Reaching the front of the line, at last, she was waved forward by two Shina troopers. "Invitation please," the one on the left said, sounding bored and holding out his hand. The one on the right seemed to be paying slightly more attention, although he was scanning the plaza and not focusing on her.

Aerith proffered the white envelope she'd found waiting on her bed. A peek inside had shown it was a handwritten letter, with no name, signed by Rufus himself. She had no idea how the Master had managed to get his hands on it, but then again, that was hardly unusual. He'd certainly managed to pull off far crazier stunts in the past.

"Looks good," the trooper said, not returning the invitation. "You may enter."

She looked at him in confusion. "Excuse me, don't I need that back?"

"Look, ma'am, I'm just doing my job. Invitations are one-time entry only, per the orders of the boss. You leave, you can't get back in. You want to show up another night? Well, you'll need a new invitation."

Aerith fumed. The Master hadn't said anything about this. She wasn't going to take her anger out on this poor guard, though. "I see, thank you," she said, somewhat stiffly, walking past him.

Maybe this was part of a test, needing to figure out how she was supposed to attend future nights. She wouldn't put it past him, it sounded exactly like something he'd do. Somehow she knew there wouldn't be any future invitations just waiting for her. There was nothing she could do about that right now, however, so she shelved the problem for later.

Her concerns were immediately forgotten as she stepped through the doors. The stories hadn't done this place justice.

The interior was—understandably—dominated by the smooth, wood, dance floor. It was recessed into the floor, a few steps leading down to it on all sides from the level she was currently standing on. As a result, the edges surrounding it were reserved for dining and relaxing, several large tables surrounded by chairs evenly spaced on all sides except the entrance. Massive pillars rose to the ceiling from the elevated edges of the floor, supporting the upper balcony.

Three magnificent chandeliers illuminated the dance floor, their light casting the entire room into a semblance of daytime despite the fact the sun had just set. Additional lights set into the pillars and underside of the balcony ensured not a single part of the room was cast in shadow. None of this was what had impressed her, however. That honor belonged to the far wall. Almost the entirety of it was dominated by a massive, breathtaking, stained glass window—depicting the entire city of Midgar. It was beautiful.

Aerith was surprised by how many people were already mingling around the dance floor, eating snacks and chatting in smaller groups. No one was dancing yet, although she imagined that would likely begin before long. A very large portion of the city's most powerful figures was gathered here tonight. If she'd been anyone else, she would have felt hopelessly out of place. Instead, it amused her to notice people eyeing her curiously, wondering who she could be.

She glanced around, trying to spot Rufus, but quickly realized he hadn't arrived yet. His magnetic personality made it impossible to miss him in a crowd, no matter how large it might be. It was comical how dramatically different he was outside of her presence. Confident, strong, charismatic—essentially a completely different man than the one she was used to interacting with. Aerith supposed she just had that kind of an effect on people.

As she moved to find a seat to wait in, Aerith froze. Her eyes locked onto a figure casually leaning against one of the massive pillars. It was him. She'd recognize that spiky black hair anywhere. Through some bizarre twist of fate, the man who'd sent her falling to the ground back with Hojo was one of Rufus's guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look, a wild Cloud has appeared! And a Tifa! The main crew is assembled, or at least, kinda assembled. We get a bit more of a look into Aerith's past here as well as finishing out the rest of the world-building for this AU. From here on out, we're in the thick of things and pace is really going to start picking up. The next chapter in particular is one of my favorites!
> 
> I want to thank everyone for your continued support of this story, it means so much to me and I really do appreciate it.
> 
> For those who are curious, here's a [link](https://www.danceshopper.com/images/Costumes/Floral-Fairytale-Dance-Performance-Dress-PCED18003-b.jpg?width=1200&height=1728&f.sharpen=75&a.Contrast=0&a.Saturation=0&a.Brightness=0&v=2021227) to an image of the dress that Aerith is wearing.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Next Chapter: Normal**


	5. Normal

Aerith stalked over to stand in front of him. Or at least, she tried—as best as her heels and dress would allow. The look of mirth in his eyes as she approached only stoked her anger even further.

"You!" she snapped, stabbing her finger in his direction.

He looked at her in amused confusion, his head slightly tilted to the side. "Have we met? I feel like I'd remember a beauty like you."

Aerith ignored the flattery and forced herself to calm down, clenching her fist. She'd almost made an incredible mistake of revealing her identity. It wasn't surprising he hadn't recognized her—she'd only barely noticed the color of his hair during their brief encounter back in the hotel entrance. He wouldn't have had any reason to pay attention to a prostitute on the arm of a stranger. It also helped that his hairstyle was so distinctive as well, although given her recent encounters, maybe it wasn't as unique as she'd initially thought.

Reversing course, she put a hand to her lips and batted her eyes at him. "Oh, oh my. I'm _so_ sorry. You look _just_ like my cheating asshole of an ex-boyfriend." Aerith winced slightly at the excuse. Relationships were dangerous. She had no actual experience with them, so any deep probing could cause everything to come crashing down.

He blinked in surprise, frowning. "Cheat? On you? Pardon me for judging you based solely on your looks, but that man must have been an idiot."

Aerith realized she was blushing and forced herself to stop acting like a novice. She needed to redirect this conversation before it went too far off track. "You're not wrong, but enough about him. Please excuse my earlier rudeness, I'm Aerith."

"Zack," he said, continuing to lean against the pillar. "So, Aerith, how does a lovely young woman like yourself know the boss man?"

Well . . . they'd gone from one line of awkward questioning, directly into another. And this one she couldn't easily sidestep. _I'm a private assassin he hires to remove competition?_ As entertaining as it would be to tell the truth, it obviously wasn't an option. "I'm a third-party contractor he hires for consultations. What about you? 'Boss man' implies you work for him?"

Zack eyed her curiously before eventually responding. "That's right, private security, here to help make sure nothing goes wrong."

She looked him over more closely, surprised by this claim since she'd initially assumed from the crisp tuxedo he was wearing that he was just another guest. The silver earring in his left ear was a little surprising, not something she was used to seeing on a man. Otherwise, he was clearly in good shape, and could likely put up a decent fight, although he wasn't carrying a weapon. At least, not one she could see. Glancing around the room, Aerith noticed it wasn't only him, none of the guards were actually armed. That was a little annoying. If anything _did_ go wrong, she wasn't sure how much she'd be able to count on them helping her.

"What's your plan for troublemakers? You're unarmed, are you just going to dance them to death?" she teased.

Zack's eyes twinkled at this and he cracked his knuckles, winking as he replied. "Oh, you don't need to worry about me, I'm more than capable of taking care of any trouble that might show up. Speaking of troublemakers though, I think there might be one right in front of me."

Aerith realized he'd just indirectly asked her to dance, and took half a step backward in surprise. While it certainly wasn't unusual for men to hit on her, they weren't usually this . . . smooth. If she was being honest with herself, there was something about Zack's carefree attitude that connected with her. She couldn't quite place her finger on exactly what it was.

"Sure seems like a lot of security for a party," she prodded, curious to see what she could get out of him. "Anything I should be worried about?"

"No way. There's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about. Anything goes wrong, I'll take care of it, don't you worry."

While his arrogant confidence had a certain appeal, it also grated at her slightly. "I feel much safer already, knowing I have a big, strong man like you looking after my safety," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder before gently running it over his chest. She forcefully shoved him back against the pillar. "But I can take care of myself."

His brow shot up, eyes wide before he grinned at her. "A contractor, you say? I'd love to hear more about what, _specifically_ , you do."

Before she could respond, there was a commotion near the entrance and Aerith glanced over to see Rufus's arrival had kicked it off. "Maybe later. Looks like our host has made his appearance, I should go greet him."

"That uptight, stick-in-the-mud?" He shrugged. "Suit yourself, you know where to find me if you want some real fun."

She left Zack leaning against the pillar and made her way to the nearest server, plucking a glass of whatever drink they were serving from the man's tray. Taking a sip—apparently it was champagne—she debated her next course of action. The Master hadn't said anything about concealing her presence, and even though she hadn't been sent a real invitation, her job would be made much simpler if Rufus knew she was here. Not to mention the fact she apparently needed to come up with an invitation for the rest of the events being held this week and the next.

The question was how best to approach him, given the current mob of people swarming the man. Maybe it was better to head back to Zack and see if he was actually capable of continuing to entertain her? The dilemma was thankfully solved for her as Rufus's two bodyguards—Baldy and Scaredy—extracted him from the tangle of overeager guests. Setting her glass down on a nearby table, she walked over to join them, coming up from behind and tapping Scaredy on the shoulder.

"Heya, can I talk to your boss?"

"Listen, woman, the boss is—oh fuck. You?!" He stumbled backward to get away from her, nearly knocking Rufus over in the process.

"Reno? What the hell?" Rufus turned around, his eyes meeting Aerith's. "Oh. I . . . I didn't realize we'd sent you an invitation."

"Well, here I am! Is that a problem?" she asked, winking at him playfully.

"No! No, problem. I just . . ."

Aerith laughed. "Don't freak out, I'm not here for anything you need to worry about."

Rufus didn't seem very relieved to hear this, but he nodded slightly in response. "Um, would you like to dance?"

She could tell he'd asked more out of politeness than seriously offering, but she still arched an eyebrow. "And immediately draw the attention of everyone here? Thanks, but I'll pass."

"Pretty sure you've already done that," he muttered under his breath, blanching as he realized she'd still heard him.

Aerith didn't mind, she appreciated the compliment. Did she really stand out _that_ much though? Maybe she should have worn a slightly less flashy dress. Looking around, it _did_ seem like there were already a lot of people either directly staring, or else indirectly shooting glances in her direction. Of course, they _could_ have been aimed at Rufus, but she was pretty sure that wasn't the case. Well, if that was a lost cause already . . .

"You know what, a dance sounds _lovely_." She struggled to contain her amusement as Rufus's eyes widened—her gloved hand extended for him to take. The prospect of throwing him even more off guard at his own party filled her with childlike glee.

Rufus swallowed, his throat bobbing, as he reached out and delicately took her hand. He led them down the steps to the dance floor, signaling to the band up on the second floor to start playing. The two bodyguards remained on the main level, having a very animated, whispered, conversation—their eyes fixed on her. Aerith gave them a wink too.

Reaching the center of the floor, she placed her left hand on the back of Rufus's shoulder, recognizing the opening notes of a waltz from her training. Rufus, in turn, gingerly placed his right hand on the center of her back. She frowned slightly at the hold—his hand on her back wasn't nearly firm enough, her body too far from his. Not wanting to embarrass him even further than he already was, Aerith allowed him to lead the dance. His first steps were hesitant, and nervous, forcing her to make sure he didn't end up stepping on her toes.

"I expected you to be a better dancer, especially after building a place this beautiful," she said, disappointed.

"Yes, well, pardon me for not being used to dancing with the most dangerous woman in the city."

"Awww, you're too kind. You know just the words a girl wants to hear."

"I'm glad at least one of us is having a good time," he muttered.

She noticed the more he talked, the better his dancing became the less he focused on it. That was fine with her, as long as it kept her toes out of harm's way. "Oh lighten up, I'm simply a normal woman tonight."

"Pardon me for saying so, but I very much doubt you're ever _simply normal_."

"Rufus, stop," she said playfully, fluttering her eyes. "If you keep on like this I'm going to think you really _are_ trying to seduce me."

By this point, other couples had joined the dance floor, although there was still a very noticeable gap around them in the center. In the absence of a reply from Rufus, Aerith turned her attention to the dance and the music in particular. It was excellent—the band clearly quite skilled. The notes of the song were hauntingly beautiful, nearly sending shivers across her body as they floated down from above.

Aerith decided now was as good a time as any to work on the issue of getting an invite to future parties. "Can you believe your guard at the entrance was rude enough to tell me my invitation was only for tonight?"

"You . . . you want to come _back_?" His feet stumbled, briefly returning the dance to its original awkwardness as she nodded in response. "I—I'll make sure the guards know you have special permission to come and go as you please. Is that acceptable?"

"Perfect," she said, happily. It was a relief to not have to worry about that problem anymore.

"You're . . . you're not here . . . for me? Right?" he asked, his eyes frantically darting around the room.

"Oh Rufus, you're such a joker," she said, lightly. She leaned in as he pulled her close into a hold, whispering into his ear, "If I was, I never would have let you see me in the first place." The look of alarm on his face as the dance picked back up was priceless. "Relax, I'm just here to have fun. I have a feeling I'm at least a _bit_ related to why you're celebrating."

He looked at her in surprise. "That . . . does make sense, you retrieved the Materia, after all. I, uh, suppose I _should_ have invited you in the first place. Have to admit I didn't think something like this would be to your taste."

 _Huh._ He actually sounded sincere. How unexpected. While it was nice to be regarded with such awe, it was also so . . . distancing. The constant fear, while wonderful in her early career, had begun to drag on her a bit. It wasn't like she wanted Rufus to treat her as a friend, or even a colleague, but something less . . . mythical would be nice. He'd dismissed it so casually earlier, but sometimes she really did just want to feel more normal.

It was her turn to stumble, lost too deeply in her thoughts to be paying enough attention to her feet. Rufus caught her, surprising Aerith with how suddenly forceful his grip became. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah . . . sorry about that."

They finished the dance in silence, Rufus hastily removing his hands as the final notes fell away. "Well, enjoy the rest of your time . . . relaxing. I'll, uh, see you around I imagine," he said hastily, bowing slightly before hurrying away.

Amusing as his departure was, Aerith felt slightly lost—alone in the middle of the dance floor—unsure what to do next. There was still quite a while until the party would be over, and Rufus clearly wasn't comfortable having her hanging around him. At least Baldy and Scaredy—Reno she supposed, remembering the name—were sticking close to him. She was fine keeping an eye on him from a distance, but she'd still need to find something to do to pass the time. One fairly silly idea came to mind, and she made her way back towards the familiar pillar.

"Well _that_ was painful to watch," Zack said, laughing as she approached. "I thought he was going to drop you at one point."

"It was that obvious?"

"No, I was just focused on the two of you."

"I didn't realize you were so attached to your boss."

"If that's what you want to think, sure, we can pretend that's the case," he said, smiling slyly.

Damn him. How was he always so easily turning the tables on her? Remembering his earlier offer, she came up with a plan to finally get the upper hand. "You know, I think you're right. I _am_ a troublemaker."

Zack looked at her in confusion for a moment, before his eyes slowly widened as he remembered her earlier joke. "Oh really now? And what kind of trouble are you up to exactly?"

"I just embarrassed the host of this party on his own dance floor," she said, her head tilted down toward the ground in mock guilt, but her eyes—flickering with amusement—looking up at him through her lashes.

From the look on his face, he was struggling to stay serious, his lip twitching. "That's . . . quite the serious crime you've admitted to. I'm afraid there's only one type of punishment for savage criminals like you."

"Oh, and what's that?" she asked breathily, stepping closer and looking up at him.

"I'm going to have to dance with you. To the death."

Slightly dropping her act, Aerith grinned up at him. "Oh? And what makes you think you'll even be able to? I'm a pretty good dancer, I'll have you know."

Zack's hand wrapped around to her back, startling her as he drew her close against him. "So am I," he whispered.

The warm sensation flooding through her body was strange but nice. No one had ever treated her like this before. She knew it was only because he didn't know who she was. _What_ she was. If he did, then he'd never even think of touching her like this. Holding her. Smiling at her. The realization . . . hurt.

"No reason to look so sad, I promise I'll be gentle," he said, smiling softly but clearly confused by the sudden change in her.

She shook her head to clear it. "Come on, let's see if you can actually live up to your claims."

Aerith pulled him after her, the band playing once again—this time a quicker, more lively song. Several of the other guests were going the opposite direction, leaving the floor, presumably because faster songs were more challenging to dance to. That was fine with her, all the easier to teach this man a lesson.

Keeping her hold of his right hand with her left, she moved to place her right hand firmly against his back. It was the man's hold for the foxtrot. He thought he was so great? Well, this was bound to make him realize just how wrong he was.

"Wait, that's not—"

She threw them into motion—taking the lead—determined to throw him off. To her immediate amazement, Zack matched her, somehow knowing the follower's steps. He continued to glide across the floor with her—his back bent so his upper body was leaning away from her—the look of confusion on his face causing her to laugh out loud.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying this," he muttered. "I've never understood how women do this. My back is killing me."

"We're just more flexible," Aerith teased, sending them into a flurry of spins.

"This really isn't fair."

" _Life_ isn't fair," she said, slightly more seriously than she'd intended.

He didn't seem to have a response for that, or else he was too focused on the dance and the intricate footwork she was forcing him through. Their feet were flashing across the floor now, and Aerith had to focus her entire attention on the steps. While she'd practiced this for the fun of it, she'd never actually danced in this manner before. Even for her, it was an unusual experience—both the flipping of the hold as well as taking the lead.

Deciding to have a bit more fun with it, she spun Zack outward so they were only connected by their hands—immensely entertained by the lack of swirling skirts since he obviously wasn't wearing a dress. Zack held the position, flourishing his arm while glaring daggers at her. She heard someone giggling, and realized it was coming from _her_ as she pulled him back in towards herself.

Moving to resume their hold, Zack suddenly _twisted_ , changing his grip on her hand and moving it to her back, _pulling_ her against him. Before she even realized what had happened, Aerith found herself with her back arched, her chest pressed to him as Zack claimed the man's hold. Her heart was pounding against him as she looked up into his sea-blue eyes.

"My turn," he growled, his voice sending tremors down her spine.

They _flowed_ —a river of elegant motion, swirling across the floor. Before, they'd been acceptable, each capable of performing the opposite role. Now, they were perfection—in sync to a degree only the best of the best could ever dream of achieving. It was exhilarating.

There was nothing except them and the music and the dance. Aerith could hear her heartbeat in her ears, felt like she could _feel_ his, pounding rhythmically into her chest. His breaths were hers and hers, his, as their bodies strained to keep up with the demand to go faster—ever faster.

Zack twisted, and she _threw_ herself into the spin, _knowing_ he would catch her, and he did—his arms holding her, steadying her, embracing her. That level of steadfast support was like nothing she ever experienced before. Aerith was smiling ear to ear, fireworks going off inside her. She laughed in pure joy as they bounced and weaved, focused entirely on the liberating freedom of the dance.

And the entire time, his eyes were locked onto hers.

By the time the final notes of the dance faded from her ears, Aerith's heart felt like it was trying to escape. Both from the frenetic dance moves, but also because of the raw emotion that had been pouring out of Zack the entire time. She could faintly hear a roaring cacophony of clapping and cheers around them, but her entire attention was focused on the man holding her.

"Well? Was that good enough?"

She opened her mouth to respond but faltered, unsure what to say. Had it been good? Good was a gross understatement. Was there even a word for what had just happened over the last few minutes? More pressingly, could she afford to _admit_ that? The dance hadn't gone at all as she'd planned.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, chuckling.

"No! I mean . . . yes. But . . ." She felt a tear rolling down her cheek. Gaia, what was _wrong_ with her. Crying in front of a complete stranger? And one she'd hated not all that long ago.

Zack stepped back before hesitantly raising a hand towards her face, his arm dropping to his side before actually touching her. "Wait . . . what? Aerith? I'm sorry, I don't—"

She needed to be anywhere but here right now. "Sorry, I'm fine. Need the restroom. Thanks for the dance." His mouth was hanging open as she turned and rushed off, pushing her way through the crowd.

Thankfully the bathroom was empty—she didn't want anyone seeing her in this horrible moment of weakness. Standing in front of the sink, she almost didn't recognize herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still rosy, her eyes wet, and despite her inner turmoil . . . She almost looked happy.

_Come on girl, get ahold of yourself. It was just a dance. Nothing to get so worked up over._

Aerith couldn't help but compare the two dances of the evening. The difference between them had been night and day. Rufus had held her like a rabid animal, afraid to have her too close to him. Zack, on the other hand, had embraced her. The feeling of his body pressed to hers—his arms holding her securely—had burned into her memory. That wasn't what had made their dance so special, although it was certainly related. No, it was much simpler than that—how incredibly _normal_ he'd made her feel.

The dance had nothing to do with her being a Shadow or Zack being a bodyguard. She had been a woman and he had been a man. Nothing more. That dangerous simplicity had managed to shatter her guard and throw her completely off balance. In all of her many years of training, nothing had prepared her for something like this.

It was an unavoidable truth that she was a Shadow. And Shadows didn't have things like bonds or connections. Which meant whatever they'd shared was fragile and fleeting. _But not wrong._ Not necessarily. She'd need to be careful, moving forward with this. Zack represented a new danger, one she had little experience with, making it all the more deadly.

Carefully, Aerith removed a glove, draping it over her other arm before grabbing a paper towel. She moistened it under the tap and then used it to dab away traces of the rogue tear. Thankfully, it hadn't done anything to her makeup since she had no way of fixing that here. The unwelcome intruder dealt with, she tossed the paper in the trash, slipping her glove back on.

Taking a deep breath, she stared deeply into her own eyes in the mirror—trying to recall how she'd looked a few days back after Hojo. Slowly, ever so slowly, the mask slipped back into place. The bored, dismissive look. The flat lips. The smooth, non-dimpled skin. She was a Shadow. And she was here on a mission, nothing more.

Returning to the ballroom, she found a huge crowd dancing on the floor. It was a waltz, and it looked as though people were changing partners every few minutes. She shot a glance over at Zack's pillar, but he wasn't there. Had he left? Rufus was on the other side of the room from her, dancing with a woman in a crimson dress, which meant Aerith was still on the clock. While she was tempted to sit and watch, there was a certain lure to mindlessly waltzing around to help pass time.

She saw a younger man standing alone, watching the dancers wistfully, and moved over next to him. "Need a partner?"

He glanced over in surprise, his cheeks flushing a bright red as he saw at her. "Wait, you're the one from the dance everyone is talking about! I'm a terrible dancer, I wouldn't want to embarrass you. Ma'am."

Aerith blinked in confusion, not entirely sure what he was talking about. Their dance hadn't drawn that much attention, had it? "Come on, don't worry about me. I'm sure once we start moving you'll do fine."

He didn't. To be fair, he was incredibly nervous, but as he stepped on her toes for the third time she was ready for a new partner. She put up with it since he seemed so happy, apparently unaware he was supposed to be the one leading them across the floor. Still, it was a relief when the music signaled it was time to move on.

The rest of her partners didn't fare much better, all of them stammering and either blushing or going white when they saw her. Oh, they were polite enough, all complimenting her dance with Zack, but also either too nervous or else terrible dancers in the first place. As she was starting to wonder if this had been a mistake in the first place, her newest partner grunted as they each positioned their arms into the proper holds.

"You."

Aerith looked up to find shades and a bald head. More importantly, it seemed like he knew how to lead, allowing her to relax slightly. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond, given she didn't know his name. At least there was an easy solution for that particular problem.

"What's your name, Mr. Bodyguard?" she asked. "I've been thinking of Reno as Scaredy and calling you Baldy, but it's only fair for me to learn yours as well."

"Rude."

"Look, I'm sorry, it's just the first nickname that jumped to mind."

"No, I'm Rude."

She frowned. "Wait, why are you the rude one?"

He sighed loudly, shaking his head. "My name is Rude."

" _Oh_."

And then he was gone, moving to the next partner and she was suddenly held by warm, familiar arms.

"Well, well, well, look who's back for more," Zack said softly.

"Ahh, it's you again."

He gasped, somehow drawing a faint smile from her lips. "Tired of me already? I'm hurt."

She found herself melting into his arms once again. It simply wasn't fair how comforting they were. Her mind flashed back to how their last dance had ended, and she waited for him to bring it up. He didn't—instead continuing to lead them amongst the crowd. It was such an immense relief to be able to simply follow him, without worrying about her feet or making sure they didn't crash into another pair.

All too soon it came time to switch partners again, except . . . Zack's arms tightened around her. She saw him glaring at the man who'd moved over to take his place and nearly laughed—the other man frowning as he backed away. They continued to sway softly, Zack repeatedly refusing to let her go each time the music signaled for a change.

"You know, all the others I danced with before finding you were wildly jealous," he said softly after a while.

"Oh?"

"No one seems to know who you are, but they all wanted me to know how wonderful they were in comparison. Some even went so far as to guess what you do for Rufus."

"Like what?" she asked, curious now.

"A secretary, a maid, a private chef. One of them even called you a whore. Well, she didn't use that word, but it's what she meant." His nose wrinkled. "I stepped on her foot. Hard."

Aerith couldn't help it, she laughed. "You did not!"

Zack frowned down at her, his eyes smiling. "I most certainly did. Honestly, she's lucky that's _all_ I did." His arms tightened slightly around her. "Look, I don't really care _what_ you do, it doesn't matter. All I know is you're the best damn dancer I've ever had the pleasure to share a dance floor with."

". . . Thanks, Zack. That means a lot to me. You're not too shabby yourself."

"Not too shabby? I suppose I can live with that, coming from you. Just wait, next time I'll knock your socks off!" He paused for a moment, looking down in concern. "There . . . will be a next time, right? Do you have another invitation? If not I can—"

"Zack, stop. Yes, I'll be back for the next dance, although that doesn't mean we're going to be dancing again."

He pouted, giving her a pair of incredibly sad-looking eyes, somehow managing to draw yet another laugh from her.

"Also, I'm not wearing socks, so good luck with that," she said, winking.

He grinned at her. "I always do love a challenge."

This man was so . . . baffling. Somehow he always seemed able to make his way through her defenses, throw her off guard, and surprise her. Her earlier resolve from the bathroom was already wavering under his assault, and part of her seemed perfectly fine with that.

"Any idea what color your dress will be?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, not sure why he was interested. "I hadn't really made any plans yet." Going over her wardrobe in her head, she discarded several options, settling on two or three possibilities. "It would likely be pink, or else a darker purple than this. Depends on how I'm feeling that night. Why?"

"No reason," he said in an utterly unconvincing manner—not elaborating any further.

Shrugging, she focused on enjoying the last moments of the dance, the band clearly winding down. It had been a remarkable night, nothing at all like what she'd expected a few hours ago when she'd assumed no one present would be able to keep up with her. Instead, she'd had an incredibly good time, even if she wasn't willing to thank the person who was responsible for it.

Once the music stopped, they stepped apart, Zack's hand lingered on her own, his grip tightening briefly as if he didn't want to let her go. She squeezed his hand lightly, before slipping hers free, taken aback at how jarring the sudden lack of contact felt. This was the way things had to be. She pointedly avoided looking at his face so she wouldn't have to see his reaction.

Reno clapped his hands, gathering the guests' attention as Rufus addressed them in a loud voice. "I want to thank you all for an incredible night of festivities. I hope you've all had as good of a time as I have."

There was a loud round of applause, joined by several people shouting affirmations they had. Rufus gestured for silence, continuing to speak once people had settled down.

"Shinra's future is bright and, hopefully, the recent upgrades to the Reactors should mean Midgar remains bright as well." There was a smattering of laughter at his joke. "There will be a break tomorrow, so I'll see those of you with invitations back here two nights from now. I wish you all the best, and thank you once more for your continued support and assistance."

He finished with a bow, before turning and making his exit—Reno and Rude once again flanking him and keeping any guests at arm's length. Rufus's safe departure meant her mission for the night was now complete. It was a huge relief that nothing had gone wrong. Hopefully, the Master's concerns were for naught and future nights would be just as smooth.

Aerith was shocked as Zack drop into a low bow next to her. "My lady, I want to thank you for an absolutely splendid evening. It has been a joy, and I shall sorely miss your exquisite company."

Now he was just being ridiculous. Rolling her eyes, she gave him a slight curtsey, deciding to play along. "Your performance was acceptable, good sir." She was already making a fool of herself, unsure how to talk formally, even if it was for fun. "I, uh, wish you a good night."

She moved to leave, coming to an abrupt halt as Zack reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling it to his lips before she could react. "Stay safe," he said, staring up at her.

Aerith could feel her cheeks heating up and nodded, not trusting herself to say anything as she pulled her hand free and fled. Just like that, her poor heart was thudding again, and now she couldn't blame it on the dancing. The crowd parted for her—the men eying her appreciatively, the women resentfully. She ignored them all, focused on the doors and doing her best to ignore the feeling of the one pair of eyes on her back she could still feel.

Refreshing, cool air hit her face as she made her escape. Her nose wrinkled as the accompanying smell of the city followed immediately after. The walk back to her apartment felt like it took forever, her feet only now letting her know just how sore they were from all the dancing. She would have loved to remove her heels and walk barefoot, except Midgar's streets were far too filthy for it to be a serious consideration. Instead, she pushed onward, one foot after the other, her skirts gently lifted with both hands to keep them safe and clean.

By the time Aerith made it home, she was ready to collapse, her feet screaming for a break. She carefully removed her heels, a soft cry of joy escaping her lips as she wiggled her toes in relief. Unzipping her dress down the back, Aerith carefully hung it back in her closet, her gaze hovering on the wall behind it and the panel hidden there.

Cleaver.

She knew she was putting it off—she had been for a while now, truth be told. Tonight, however, was not the right night. There was no party tomorrow, and besides, she was exhausted from all the dancing. Not to mention the fact she didn't want to let Cleaver ruin what had been one of the best nights of her life. Nodding to herself, she moved to her bathroom. She was going to take an extra-long soak in the tub, before proceeding to pass out in her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let's go over the elephant in the ballroom. This story isn't a Zerith. I don't want to start any ship wars, and I imagine most people reading are Clerith fans anyway since that's the listed relationship. So yeah, not a Zerith, the tags don't lie.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, I love this chapter to death and I really hope it was fun to read. We've got a few more ballroom scenes in the upcoming chapters, and while I love them all, this one is narrowly my favorite. Reno and Rude go from nameless bodyguards to bad nicknames, to Aerith finally learning their real names. Meanwhile, she continues to terrorize poor Rufus. And, of course, lots and lots of dancing!
> 
> Tag Update: I added Explicit Language, both because there's a bit of it showing up already, but also because a certain potty mouth is making his first appearance next week as well.
> 
> The support from all of you, my dear readers, continues to push me forward with this story. Thank you _so_ much.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Next Chapter: Deception**


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